Aftermath
by BlackHawk13
Summary: --AFTERMATH universe-- Begins 3 days after the fall of Voldemort in DEATHLY HALLOWS. Mainly RW/HG but also HP/GW.
1. Three Days Later

**A/N:** This is my frst attempt at posting anything I've ever written, and also my first attempt at a Harry Potter fanfiction. (Not real sure about the process of posting here, so I'm crossing my fingers and hoping this works.)

**Disclaimer:** This stuff belongs to J.K. Rowling.

"Aftermath"

Chapter 1 – Three Days Later

How do you recover from something like that? That was the question on the minds of many in the wizarding world after the final battle with Voldemort and his evil forces. Hundreds were dead, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was in ruins, and the Ministry of Magic was a shambles.

The one bright spot, the one silver lining amidst the clouds of war, was the end of Voldemort. Lord Voldemort, the man once known as Tom Marvolo Riddle, was dead and it was Harry Potter…the Boy-Who-Lived…the Chosen One…who had defeated the Dark Lord once and for all.

Fred was dead, as were Lupin and Tonks; no to mention Dobby, Colin Creevey, Mad-Eye Moody, Dumbledore, Snape and all the others who lost their lives in the war against Voldemort. Harry felt bad for all those who died during the war, but his real sympathy was for people like his friends…like him…the survivors who had to carry on with the pain and guilt of having lived while those around them died.

Being the Boy-Who-Lived, while his friends died, gave Harry more guilt than he could bear. Tonks and Lupin's son, Teddy…Harry's own godson…would grow up without parents, just as he, Harry, had done. It was all his fault. And how could Harry ever face Ron, Ginny, and the rest of the Weasleys now that Fred was dead? Harry would be a constant reminder of Fred's death. It was all his fault.

At least, that's how Harry saw it. How the rest of the wizarding world saw it, including the Weasleys, was that Harry was a genuine hero. He was the only one who could stop Voldemort's reign of terror, and he stepped up to the challenge and overcame insurmountable odds. The Boy-Who-Lived was now the Man-Who-Won. Nobody but Harry Potter himself held him responsible for any of the deaths during the war. To the wizarding world he was a hero…the greatest celebrity in the wizarding world since Merlin himself; and everybody wanted a piece of him.

All Harry wanted was to be left alone. He never asked to be the Chosen One; never asked to have the weight of the world shoved onto his shoulders. He never asked to watch his friends die fighting at his side against a power-hungry madman driven on by a misheard prophecy. All Harry wanted was a normal life.

The funerals of Tonks, Lupin, and Fred weighed heavily on Harry. He attended the funerals out of a sense of duty and respect, but as he stood by the gravesides amongst the crowds of mourners, he silently added these names to the list of people who died because of him: his parents, Sirius, Cedric, Dumbledore, Moody, Dobby, Colin, Snape, and now Tonks, Lupin, and Fred. For someone so young to have so many deaths on his conscience was not only unfair, it was unnatural.

As Fred was laid to rest in a small plot in the garden at the Burrow, Harry soberly watched the Weasley family as they put one of their own into the ground.

Arthur and Ginny were on either side of Molly, supporting the poor woman as she broke down once again, her worst fear realized. Charlie placed a hand on his mother's shoulder, adding his support to try and comfort the grieving woman. Bill and Fleur held each other tightly, both weeping openly. Percy cried with great heaving sobs, his usual air of unemotional decorum completely forgotten. George stood, stock-still, eyes staring off into space; he seemed to still be in shock, having lost the other half of his soul. Ron held Hermione's hand, her head on his shoulder as he wept silent tears into her great mass of frizzy, brown hair.

Harry felt like an outsider as he watched the Weasleys mourn. He knew they considered him a part of the family – Molly, herself, had said as much – but at a time like this, he felt like anything but a part of the family. He wished he could just leave them to their grief.

When the ceremony ended, Bill and Charlie helped their mother into the house, intent on escorting her to her room where she could lie down while Fleur made some tea. Ginny led Percy back into the house, his tears still accompanied by gasps and whimpers. George continued to stare blankly at his twin brother's grave, while Ron and Hermione walked off, hand-in-hand, towards the small grove of trees where the Weasley children sometimes played games of Quidditch, during happier times.

Harry was about to follow his two best friends, when he was intercepted by Arthur Weasley.

"Excuse me, Harry, might I have a word?"

"Of course, sir," Harry looked nervously at Mr. Weasley, expecting to be blamed for the sorrow brought upon his family and ordered to leave the Burrow immediately, never to return.

Mr. Weasley ran his fingers through his thinning hair. There were dark bags under his bloodshot eyes, betraying the fact that he, too, had been crying over the death of his son. He managed a weak smile for Harry's benefit.

"We're not quite at our best right now, Harry," Arthur stole a glance at Fred's grave, where George was still standing, as if mesmerized, "Having to bury your own child is a heartache I hope you never have to experience."

"I'm really sorry, Mr. Weasley," Harry said softly, "It's my fault…"

"Nonsense," Mr. Weasley interrupted, clapping a hand onto the young man's shoulder, "Fred new the dangers of fighting You-Know-Who…of fighting Voldemort…and the Death Eaters," it would take some time, even now with him dead, for Arthur to get used to saying the name Voldemort, "We all new the dangers, Harry, and we fought just the same."

"Yes, but --…"

"Now, now," Mr. Weasley interrupted Harry again, "This isn't the time for talking about this. I just wanted to tell you…and Molly feels this way as well…that this is your home now, if you'd like to stay. Mrs. Weasley has grown quite attached to you, son. We all have."

"I appreciate that, Mr. Weasley, but --…"

"At least consider staying until you have someplace else to go," Mr. Weasley looked expectantly at Harry who nodded deferentially, drawing another smile from Mr. Weasley, "There's a good lad."

Mr. Weasley patted Harry on the back and walked over to Fred's graveside, putting an arm around George.

"Come on, now, son…let's get you some rest," Arthur slowly turned his son towards the house and gently ushered him inside, nodding at Harry as they passed, "We could all use some rest."

Once George and Mr. Weasley had disappeared inside the house, Harry turned and started walking in the direction Ron and Hermione had gone. He knew talking to them about how he was feeling would be helpful, if for nothing else than to get their perspective on what he was thinking. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had been through a lot together in the last seven years, and he valued their opinions above almost anyone else's; surely they'd be able to give him good advice on what he should do.

Harry found the young couple sitting beneath a birch tree at the far end of the grove used as a makeshift Quidditch pitch. Hermione sat with her back up against the trunk of the tree, and Ron was lying on his side, in the fetal position with his head in her lap. Harry could hear Ron's sobs from where he stood and wasn't sure he should intrude. He was just about to turn around and leave when Hermione spotted him and waved him over.

Harry sighed and shuffled over, his hands in his pockets. Hermione smiled wanly at him, her eyes red and puffy, showing that she'd been crying as well. Ron didn't move as Harry reached them and sat down in the grass next to them. The three of them had been through too much for Ron to hide his anguish from Harry.

They sat in silence, no one speaking as Ron cried and Hermione tenderly rubbed his back. The sun was starting to set before Ron slowly rose to a sitting position, hugging his knees to his chest. Hermione put her arm around Ron and rested her head on his shoulder, reaching out and taking Harry's hand in her free hand.

"So…your dad said I could stay here for as long as I like," Harry spoke, causing Hermione and Ron to jump slightly at the sound of his voice breaking the silence like a thunderclap.

"Makes sense," Ron said softly, still looking down at his feet, "You're family. This is your home now. I expect the same goes for you, 'Mione," Ron nudged Hermione's head with his own, causing her to squeeze him tighter into the hug. "Mum loves you like a daughter and the others all think of you like a sister."

Harry noticed that Hermione's eyes were closed and tears were running down her cheeks, falling onto Ron's jumper.

"I hope they all don't think of me like a sister," she managed to laugh slightly as she said that. Harry and Ron both knew what she meant. Harry smiled and squeezed her hand, while Ron nodded slowly and placed a trembling hand on her leg, rubbing and squeezing her thigh lovingly. The very last thing Hermione wanted was for Ron to consider her his sister; not after that kiss outside the Room of Requirement the other day.

"Some of us don't," Ron admitted, giving her a quick sideways glance before looking back at his feet, his cheeks reddening. She squeezed him again when he said that.

Silence overtook the friends again, and this time it was Hermione to break the silence after taking a deep, nervous breath.

"I won't be staying," she confessed, "At least, not for long."

Ron's hand on her thigh stiffened, and it seemed as if he were contemplating pulling it away. He closed his eyes once more and it seemed almost as if he were fighting the urge to cry once more.

"Why are you leaving?" Harry asked when Ron didn't, "Where are you going?"

Hermione looked at Harry with an expression akin to despair in her eyes.

"I'm going to Australia to find my parents," she explained, knowing it would be a difficult undertaking, "I have to find them and restore their memories, so they don't think they're Wendell and Monica Wilkins for the rest of their lives."

Harry noticed Ron's jaw clench as Hermione revealed her plans, and he got the feeling she'd already discussed this with Ron and he wasn't keen on the idea of her leaving. Harry had counted on Hermione being around for Ron after he, Harry, had left, but now it seemed as though both his friends would abandon him at the same time. This brought about yet another pang of guilt for Harry, yet more pain he would bring upon his friends. He was barely listening as Hermione continued.

"I'll be back, though," Hermione said, patting Ron's hand reassuringly, "As soon as I've found them."

Ron looked up at Hermione and she mouthed the words "I promise." He hung his head again, knowing he would be unable to talk her out of going without him. After all, he hadn't been able to talk her out of it since she first told him her plans two days ago. Even worse, he knew he shouldn't talk her out of it, no matter how selfishly he wanted to keep her by his side.

"I'm not staying, either," Harry finally admitted, looking down at the ground in front of him where he'd been absentmindedly pulling up clumps of grass.

Ron and Hermione both shot him looks of shock and surprise. He hadn't spoken much to anybody in the last three days, since the end of the battle at Hogwarts, and he'd never mentioned anything to anyone about his plans for the future.

"Bloody Hell!" was all Ron could manage from behind his stunned expression.

"Where will you go?" Hermione asked, concern for her friend showing on her face.

"I don't know where I'll go," Harry shrugged, looking meekly at his friends, "But staying here doesn't seem right. I'll be a constant reminder to everyone of Fred being killed, and I've caused enough pain for Ron's family."

"Harry --…"

"You complete effing git!!" Ron yelled, interrupting Hermione, "Are you mental?! What pain have you caused my family?"

Harry could see that Ron was angry, but he needed to speak his mind. He had to make his two best friends understand why he needed to leave.

"Well, let's see," Harry replied, trying to keep his temper in check as he counted off examples for Ron on his fingers, "Bill's scarred, George is missing an ear, and Fred is dead…all because of me!"

"And none of that is your fault!" Ron spat back, jumping to his feet, his fists clenched at his sides, "You-Know-Wh--…Voldemort did all that! Or, his Death Eaters did anyway."

"Voldemort was after ME!" Harry yelled, jumping up to face Ron, "If your family wasn't connected to me, they never would've been caught in the crossfire! Without me, you could have all been living normal lives instead of being in constant danger! Without me, Fred wouldn't be dead and Hermione wouldn't have had to send her parents to safety! It's what I do…I bring pain, suffering, and death to those around me, all the while walking away unscathed. I'm the Boy-Who-Lived-While-Others-Died!"

"You ARE mental!" Ron laughed harshly, "You do realize that my family are blood-traitors, not to mention members of the Order of the Phoenix; we'd have been targets with or without you."

"And Voldemort despised Muggles and Muggle-borns," Hermione added, getting to her feet as if to prevent them from coming to blows, "My parents and I would have been in danger, too."

"Face it, mate," Ron said, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder and smiling slightly, "If it wasn't for you, we'd probably all be dead and the entire world would be buggered."

"You saved us all," Hermione added, placing her hand on Harry's other shoulder, "Sacrifices were made and it hurts, but…"

"It's not your fault," Ron said, finishing Hermione's thought for her, "You're a hero, mate, plain and simple."

"He's right, Harry," Hermione said with a tear in her eye, "You beat Voldemort; you saved us all."

_"Not all of you,"_ Harry thought to himself. "I don't feel like a hero."

"I think that's part of it," Ron said, drawing looks from both his friends, "A hero wouldn't be as heroic if he went around feeling all heroic; then he'd just be some full-of-himself git!"

"So then, the worse I feel, the more heroic I am?" Harry asked, a look of confusion contorting his face.

"Basically," Ron nodded.

"Then I must be just about the greatest hero ever," Harry scoffed.

The three friends laughed at that for a few moments before once again falling into silence. This time, it was Ron's turn to break it.

"You're not going anywhere," Ron said, punching Harry lightly on the arm.

"How's that?" Harry asked, looking slightly taken aback by Ron's declaration. He was about to re-list all the deaths he felt responsible for when Ron derailed his train of thought.

"You belong here, Harry," Ron explained, "Face it, mate, you're a Weasley; have been since First Year."

"First…?" Harry looked confused.

"You don't think Mum makes Weasley sweaters for just anybody, do you?"

The three friends laughed again, and the maudlin weight of Fred's death…and the deaths of their other friends…lifted a little.

"You know, I kind of missed not getting one of your mum's sweaters for Christmas this year," Harry admitted as the three friends began walking up the garden towards the house as the sun began to set.

"Bloody Hell," Ron exclaimed, rolling his eyes, "Don't let Mum hear you say that, or you'll get two for your birthday!"

They laughed again, longer, louder, and more freely this time, and while the three friends knew things would never be the same, there was a definite feeling that things would get better.


	2. The Next Mourning

**A/N:** This is the second chapter in my first HP fanfic. And in case anyone was wondering about the rating (M), it's rated thus due to some language and adult situations.

**Disclaimer:** This stuff belongs to J.K.R.

"Aftermath"

Chapter 2 – The Next Mourning

Ron Weasley sat on his bed looking out the window. The sun was up and it looked as if Mother Nature had the gall to grace them with a beautiful spring day. It was the day after Fred's funeral and it didn't seem fair that the weather was so beautiful when his family was so miserable.

The sound of the creaking camp bed where Harry slept drew Ron's attention. His best friend was tossing and turning on the small cot, doubtless having another nightmare. Ron frowned; Harry wasn't alone in having nightmares these days. The war against You-Know-Wh--…Voldemort…might be over, but the end of the fighting didn't bring an end to the pain they all felt.

Ron got up and dressed quickly, putting on jeans and a maroon jumper. He grabbed his trainers and left the room. Today was sure to be a long day; it was the day when everything was supposed to get back to normal. Bill and Fleur had returned to Shell Cottage last night; Charlie, Percy, and Mr. Weasley were due to return to the Ministry today to aid in the reconstruction and restructuring. Kingsley Shacklebolt, the acting Minister for Magic, had scads of work for them to do.

Ron reached the kitchen and was surprised to not see his mother there. She was such a fixture in the kitchen early in the morning, making breakfast for everyone, that to NOT see her there spoke to Ron as to how broken his family truly was right now. Healing would take time; that was a forgone conclusion. Ron just couldn't help wondering how much time it would take.

Ron chanced to look out the kitchen window into the garden and saw his brother, George, kneeling in front of Fred's grave. The whole family was in pain over Fred's death, but with the exception of his poor mother, George appeared to be suffering the most. Ron wanted to help his brother, but he wasn't sure how to go about it.

Ron quietly walked out the back door, careful not to let it slam. As he made his way into the garden, it sounded as if George was talking, but Ron was too far away to make out what his brother was saying. Ron coughed softly as he approached his brother, wanting to give George some warning of his arrival. George stiffened slightly at the sound of Ron's approach, and stopped talking.

"'Mornin', George," Ron said softly, standing behind his brother, "How'd you sleep?"

"Didn't," George replied curtly, his voice sounding strained. George had yet to turn around and face his younger brother.

"I was about to make some tea and toast," Ron said, not comfortable making graveside small talk, but not wanting to leave his brother out here alone with his despair, "Thought maybe you'd like some."

"Not hungry," George croaked, his throat raw.

"C'mon, George," Ron pleaded, "I could use the company."

George sighed and bowed his head, his shoulders drooping in a sign of defeat. "Fine," he said, quietly, slowly getting to his feet.

The brothers walked back inside the house in silence, and Ron set about preparing tea and toast while George sat at the table with his hands in his lap, looking down at the floor, still having never made eye contact with Ron. Neither brother spoke until Ron brought two cups of tea and a plate of burnt toast to the table.

"Sorry it's not as good as Mum's; cooking's not really my bag," Ron said, gazing into his cup, wondering for a brief moment what his tea leaves might show if he tried to read them.

George said nothing, but sipped his tea with his eyes closed. Ron frowned, trying to think of what he could do to help his brother. Considering he had the emotional range of a teaspoon, as Hermione was fond of saying, Ron wasn't exactly the best person to try and heal his brother's emotional pain.

"Dad, Charlie, and Percy are going back to work today," Ron said matter-of-factly as he washed down a particularly crunchy bite of toast with a gulp of tea.

George continued to say nothing, but he nodded his head this time.

"When do you plan on re-opening the shop?" Ron asked, referring to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes that George and Fred had run together.

"Never," George replied still not looking up from his tea. He had no intention of even setting foot inside the shop ever again now that Fred was gone. How could he? Everything about the place would remind him of the twin brother he'd never see again.

"Are you mental?!" Ron exclaimed, more harshly than he had intended, "The shop's brilliant! Everyone loves Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes!!"

"Well, everyone will have to get used to disappointment, won't they?!" George yelled, jumping to his feet. His eyes, once upon a time, so full of mirth, were now full of pain and anger, "Fred is dead, Ron, and so is the bloody shop!!"

George turned on his heels and stormed out of the kitchen. Ron could hear him stomping angrily up the stairs, and moments later, the sound of a slamming door announced George's arrival at the bedroom he'd shared with his twin for most of his life.

"Bloody Hell," Ron groaned, his ears turning pink. He felt about the size of a house-elf at that point. "I'm such an effing git."

"You'll get no argument from me," Ginny said with half a smile as she entered the kitchen in her robe. Her hair was messy and she was still wiping the sleep from her eyes, "But your girlfriend might disagree."

Ron frowned at Ginny's mentioning of his girlfriend. She meant Hermione, of course, and even though there was definitely something between them now, they hadn't discussed it or finalized it. And with Hermione about to leave for Australia to recover her parents, Ron had a feeling their discussion might not go as well as he hoped.

"What's George on about?" Ginny asked as she set about making herself a cup of tea. Her older brother had stormed by her as she was coming down the stairs. He was too angry to even say _good morning_ to her.

Ron sighed, knowing that his sister would also be pissed-off at him once he'd told her about what happened. "I…suggested…that he should re-open the shop," Ron said, trying to put what he'd said in the best possible light.

"You ARE an effing git!!" Ginny yelled, rounding on him, "It's too soon, Ron! How can you be so bloody insensitive?!"

"I know it's too bloody soon, Ginny," Ron yelled back, not caring if he wound up the recipient of a Bat-Bogey Hex, "But he doesn't EVER want to open the shop! He just wants to give up."

"Give him some time, Ron," Ginny was still angry with her brother even though she knew he had the best intentions and was trying to help, "We just buried Fred…you can't expect him to go rushing off to someplace that going to remind him of Fred every single day."

Ron got up and left the kitchen, so he wouldn't have to listen to Ginny tell him stuff he already knew. He headed back up the stairs to see if Harry had gotten up yet, but stopped in his tracks when he saw Hermione on her way back to Ginny's room from the bathroom. Her hair was damp from the shower and she was dressed in a fuzzy, pink bathrobe.

"Good morning, Ron," she said with a smile as she saw him climb the steps.

"'Morning, 'Mione," he replied, trying not to stare. She was beautiful; in his eyes, Hermione Granger was the most beautiful woman in the world.

"You're up early," she said, smiling coyly. She didn't know why she felt so nervous around Ron lately…since their kiss. It was almost as if she was expecting things to fall apart any moment now.

"Couldn't sleep," he said, nervously running his fingers through his red hair. He longed to reach out and touch her, to hold her and be held by her.

"I didn't sleep well either," Hermione admitted, "So much has happened…my mind keeps racing whenever I lie in bed."

"I keep having nightmares," Ron confided in her. He looked down, afraid to see pity in her eyes.

It wasn't pity, but deep concern that filled Hermione's soft, brown eyes. She stepped into him and hugged him tight, doing her best to comfort him. She rested her head against his chest, reveling in his warmth and the beat of his heart.

"Is there anything I can do?" she asked, wanting to help in any way she could, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Ron hugged her back, nuzzling his face in her damp hair. She smelled of rose blossoms. He did want to talk, but not about his nightmares.

"Actually, 'Mione, I think we should talk about _us_."

Harry woke up screaming as the horrors of the past year haunted his dreams again. He got up and looked across the room, afraid his screams had awakened Ron. To his surprise…and relief…his best friend was nowhere to be seen.

Harry headed downstairs, still dressed in his pajamas. He glanced longingly at the closed door to Ginny's bedroom as he continued on to the ground floor. Now that the war was over, and no one was trying to kill him every time he turned around, Ginny wouldn't be in danger anymore if they got back together. Of course, that assumed that she didn't hate him for the pain he'd brought her family.

He'd expected to see Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen making breakfast for the family, but instead he found Ginny sitting alone in her robe angrily eating toast and drinking tea. Harry was about to turn around and leave since he wasn't ready to face Ginny yet, but she saw him and he was stuck.

"Hi," Ginny said quietly, her anger seeming to abate slightly.

"Hello, Ginny," Harry replied, trying not to look into her eyes, afraid of what he'd find there.

"Are you hungry?" she asked, concerned for Harry's well-being. She was still in love with him, despite what had happened before, "I could make you some breakfast…eggs and sausages, maybe?"

"You don't have to," Harry said, not wanting anyone to put themselves out on his account. People have done too much for him, paid too high a price, and he didn't feel worthy. "I'm not really hungry."

In truth, Harry was starving. He hadn't eaten much since the end of the Battle of Hogwarts, when Kreacher the house-elf brought him a corned beef sandwich as he rested in Gryffindor Tower. Harry didn't feel like he had a right to eat. Why should he feel full when so many people will never feel anything ever again because of him?!

"Ah, Harry…Ginny…you're up," Mr. Weasley entered the kitchen followed closely by Charlie and Percy. They were all dressed for work, "Ginny, your mum's resting, the poor thing. Be a dear and let your brothers know not to bother her today."

"Of course, Dad," Ginny agreed, willing to do whatever it took to see her mum get the rest she needed.

"There's a good girl," Arthur Weasley said as he and his sons made their way out the back door, "No idea when we'll be back," he said waving to his daughter and Harry, "So don't hold supper for us."

Ginny waved back as they left the kitchen and Apparated to work from out in the garden. This left Harry and Ginny once more very much alone in the kitchen. Harry had his hands folded on the table and was determinedly watching them. Ginny was watching him as she sipped her tea. Several minutes passed without either of them saying a word. Finally, it was Ginny who broke the silence.

"So, Harry…are we ever going to get back together?"

-- End Chapter 2 --

**A/N:** I hope there's people out there who actually like this story. If not, well, I'm sorry to hear that.


	3. Where Do We Go From Here?

**A/N:** My third installment of "Aftermath". Hopefully I'll get some reviews soon, so I know if anyone's enjoying this story (or not). Rated M for language and "stuff".

**Disclaimer:** J.K.R. owns this stuff.

"Aftermath"

Chapter 3 – Where do we go from Here?

Hermione sat on her bed in Ginny's room, her hands primly folded in her lap as she looked across at Ron who sat on his sister's bed, fidgeting nervously. He looked like a caged tiger, as if he was ready to jump up and run around the room at any moment.

After Ron had announced that he wanted to talk about "us", they had retreated to the privacy of Ginny's bedroom. Hermione locked the door and cast the _Silencio _charm on the room, so no one would be able to hear what was going on inside the room. She had a bad feeling that yelling might ensue, and she didn't want to disturb the rest of the house.

"Alright, Ronald," Hermione said after a few minutes of silence passed between them, "You wanted to talk about us…so let's talk."

Ron suddenly jumped to his feet, startling Hermione. He began pacing the bedroom.

"I…we…you and me…" he couldn't quite assemble his thoughts into a coherent sentence. He stopped and took a deep breath, "Let me say this first…what you did yesterday, at the…you know…"

"At Fred's funeral?" she asked, trying to help Ron collect his thoughts, so they both could understand what was being said.

"Right," Ron nodded, "You were there for me…that meant a lot."

"You needed…someone," Hermione said. She was going to say _you needed me_, but she thought better of it, "A shoulder to lean on, and to cry on."

"Right," he agreed, not wanting to be reminded of the way he broke down in front of her, "Thanks for that."

"Anytime," she said, meaning it with all her heart, "We've been best friends for a long time and I'll always be there when you need me."

"Right…friends," Ron repeated as he began pacing again.

"_Best_ friends," Hermione corrected him. _More than friends_ is what she wanted to say, but she didn't want to put her heart on the line if Ron didn't feel the same way.

"Right," he continued pacing, wringing his hands, "And then, four days ago…outside the Room of Requirement…the kiss."

Ron wasn't speaking in complete sentences anymore, but Hermione was pretty sure she got the gist of what he was getting at. The kiss they shared, after he showed concern for the safety of Hogwarts' house-elves during the battle with Voldemort and his Death Eaters, had been foremost in Hermione's mind for the last few days as well. It was something that happened in the heat of the moment, something the two had been building towards for the past seven years.

Had Harry not been there to interrupt them, she was sure it would have continued on into something overwhelming; something emotionally and physically satisfying. At that moment, Hermione was Ron's if he wanted her. She was sure he did, but with everything that had happened AFTER Harry interrupted them, they'd never had the chance to pick up where they left off, or to even talk about it.

"What about the kiss, Ron?" she looked at him with expectant eyes. She had a calm façade, but inside she was a giddy little girl doing somersaults. She wanted to fling herself across the room and kiss him again. But she didn't. She wanted Ron to be the one to make the first move this time.

"Well, it was good, wasn't it?" he was still nervously walking about the room. Every once in a while, he would look at her, but not in the eye…he was afraid of what he'd see there and what she'd see in his eyes, "I mean…I enjoyed it. A right good kisser you are, Hermione."

"Thank you, Ronald," she said politely.

He tingled every time she called him _Ronald_. Hearing her say _Ron_ was good, but when she said _Ronald_ he felt sure that he could fly without need of a broomstick.

"It was the kind of thing a bloke does with his…uh…his…" he was afraid to say the next word.

"His what, Ron?" her voice was getting husky without meaning it to.

"His…you know, Hermione!" Ron was getting frustrated. His ears were already the color of the sweaters his mother made him each Christmas.

"Tell me, Ronald," Hermione urged. She knew where he was headed, but she wanted to hear him say it…to take the risk…for her love. "Please?"

Ron stopped dead and looked at her, for the first time looking into her eyes. He saw it there, twinkling in those gorgeous brown eyes of hers. She was in love with him; just as he was with her, and she wanted him…it was all there in her eyes. All he had to do was be a man and claim her love.

"It was the kind of thing a bloke does with his…girlfriend," he held his breath after saying it, wondering what her reaction was going to be.

"Oh. So, you only want to do that sort of thing with your girlfriend from now on," she said, keeping a straight face even though she was teasing him. Her inner giddiness was boundless now. She was dancing, singing, flying…all on the inside…because Ron…_her_ _Ronald_…wanted her to be his girlfriend. "Thank you for telling me, Ronald. I'll be sure that I refrain from kissing you from now on."

"WHAT?!" Ron looked like he was about to die of fright; his eyes were big as saucers and his face was devoid of color, "No, Hermione, that's not what I mean! I mean…I want to kiss YOU like that; only you."

"But you just said…"

"Hermione!! Bloody Hell, woman, you're not normally this thick!" Ron was flustered beyond limit now. She couldn't or wouldn't grasp what he was saying.

Hermione couldn't help herself anymore. She started laughing; a quiet little giggle at first, but soon she was laughing loudly and happily at the look on Ron's face.

"What the Hell are you laughing at?" he snapped, not realizing she was having him on, "I…wait a bloody damn minute! You're taking the mickey out of me!!"

She began laughing uncontrollably as he finally caught on. The anger on his face subsided quickly as his cheeks turned bright red to match his ears. He ran his fingers through his hair, looking away from Hermione as she rolled on her bed, tears falling from her eyes from laughing too hard.

"Well, I guess that's it then," Ron said, still looking away from her as she laughed at his expense, "I guess you're my girlfriend now."

"Think so, do you?" she said, sitting up and wiping the tears of laughter from her eyes.

"Well, yeah…" he looked over at her, wondering if she was still making fun of him.

"You didn't actually ask me, Ronald," she said, acting prim and proper again, "A girl likes to be asked, you know."

"You're going to make me beg, aren't you?" he grimaced.

"Maybe," she said with a coy smile.

He moved over to her bed and got down on his knees. Ron was so tall that this put him nearly at eye level with Hermione as she sat on the edge of the bed. He placed his hands on either side of her hips, and got as close as her legs would allow, gazing into her warm, brown eyes.

"Hermione…" he began in a soft, low voice that made her tingle from head to toe.

"Yes, Ronald…?" her voice was equally low.

"Would you please be my girlfriend?"

"Yes, Ronald."

"What did you say?" Harry asked, looking agog at Ginny.

"I _said_," Ginny replied, her brown eyes shining, "Are we ever going to get back together?"

The dragon that lived inside Harry's chest came alive and wanted to roar to the world _yes!_ However, he was still a bit unsure of whether he deserved Ginny after the suffering he had visited upon her and her family.

"I…don't know," he replied hesitantly, avoiding her gaze, "Don't you think you're better off without me?"

"Are you mental?!" she yelled, sounding remarkably like her brother, Ron, for a moment, "Do you know how miserable I've been without you?"

_"Not half as miserable as I've been without you,"_ he wanted to say, but all Harry could bring himself to say was "No."

"I thought I'd die not knowing where you were…what you were doing…if you were okay," there were tears in Ginny's eyes as she said this, "I hardly slept…I barely ate. I felt as if a part of me…the best part…had been ripped out!"

"I'm sorry, Ginny," Harry said sadly, fighting back tears, "I wanted to protect you."

"I didn't need your protection, Harry," she said, fire in her voice, "I needed your love."

"I didn't mean to hurt you," he said, tears finally falling, "I never ever wanted to hurt you…or your family."

"This isn't about my family, Harry, this is about you and me," Ginny got up and moved around the table to Harry, placing a delicate hand on his shoulder. "Do you want to be with me…yes or no?"

He looked up at her. She was so beautiful. Her hair, her eyes, her smile…even her freckles made his heart soar. He wanted to say _yes_, he longed to jump up and yell at the top of his lungs that yes, he wanted to be with her. But he felt unworthy.

"Ginny, I…"

"Yes…or no…?" her voice was sharp, almost angry. She couldn't stand being this close to Harry…the boy she'd been in love with since the moment she laid eyes on him…her hero…her savior…and not have his love all to herself.

"Well, yes, I do want to be with you Ginny, but --…" Harry never got to finish his sentence. Ginny dropped into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him deeply and passionately. "Mmmff!" Harry's arms instinctively wrapped around Ginny's waist and his hands came dangerously close to her bum.

Ginny's finger's tangled in his hair and tickled the back of his neck, causing him to tingle all over, and with her rear-end pressing down into his lap, he was quickly starting to produce a significant bulge in his pajama bottoms.

She squealed as she felt his erection poking up at her, and she absentmindedly started grinding herself down against him. This caused the greatest feeling Harry had ever had in his pants, ever! He realized quickly that if he didn't stop what was happening, he was going to explode inside his pajamas,

"Ginny…stop!" Harry gasped, breaking the kiss and pushing her away slightly, "We can't do this!"

"The little man in your pants seems to think otherwise, Mr. Potter," Ginny said with a very cheeky smile, "He seems to like it when I kiss you and rub up against you."

"So do I," Harry admitted with embarrassment, "But come on, we're in your family's kitchen…and…and just yesterday --…"

"Shut up, Harry," Ginny said, putting her hand over his mouth. Her brown eyes were sparkling with love for him, but there was sadness there, too, "My brother is dead, and I've cried for him; and I'll cry again for him later, too, but I'm not going to stop living just because Fred is gone. If anything, I should try to live my life twice as hard."

"Yeah, but --…" Harry started, only to be cut off.

"No _buts_, Harry," she snapped, grabbing his shoulders tightly, "Either you love me and you want to be with me, or you don't and I'm going to have to find a way to move on without you. Now…which is it?!"

"If I say _yes_," he began meekly, "Will you please stop trying to seduce me at your mother's kitchen table?"

Ginny smiled broadly and threw her arms around him, planting a powerfully passionate kiss on his lips, and causing Harry to unleash his pent up passion all over the inside of his pajama bottoms.

"Ron," Hermione said in a very serious voice, "If I'm going to be your girlfriend, then there can't be any secrets between us. I don't want that."

"Okay," Ron agreed nervously. He really didn't have any secrets from her, so he didn't see the harm. They'd been best friends since he was eleven, and there was very little that he did that she didn't know about.

"Do you love me?" she asked, looking at him hopefully. She wanted him to shout to the world that he loved her, but she was afraid he wasn't ready to say it yet. She longed to say _I love you_ to him, as she had so many times in her dreams, but she wanted…needed…for him to be the brave one who said it first.

"Of course I do, 'Mione," he confessed, his ears red, "I already told you that."

"What? You never!" she exclaimed, sure she would have remembered something as important as _that_.

"Sure I did," Ron contradicted her, surprised that she of all people would forget something like that, "Sixth Year…remember?"

"What? No, that was --…" Hermione was about to say, _"That was Lavender you must have said that to,"_ but suddenly she remembered.

_It was shortly after Ron's seventeenth birthday; a birthday he'd spent in the Hogwarts hospital wing after accidentally being poisoned. She and Ron had recently reconciled after spending months on the outs thanks to Ron's frequent and indiscreet snogging sessions with Lavender Brown._

_Ironically, it was Ron's poisoning that had facilitated their reconciliation. As Ron lay, unconscious, in his bed in the hospital wing, it was Hermione's name that he called out, not Lavender's. Hermione could no longer be mad at Ron after that, no matter how hurt she had been that he had chosen Lavender to be his first girlfriend instead of her. He was alive and he was calling out for her in his sleep…and that was reason enough for Hermione to forgive him._

_It was a week after his release from the hospital wing, as Ron was working hard on a Defense-Against-the-Dark-Arts essay that it had happened. He'd been using a Spell-Checking quill from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes that had stopped working. The quill had, among others, misspelled the words dementors (Dugbogs), augurey (orgy), belligerent (bum-something), and his own name (Roonil Wazlib)._

_As Ron began to fret over possibly having to re-write the entire essay, Hermione offered to fix it for him, using her wand to correct the misspelled words as she proofread it. Then it happened._

_"I love you, Hermione."_

_She had blushed and smiled as he said it and then chided him about not letting his girlfriend, Lavender, hear him say that…but still. It had been said and it had made her heart sing!_

"That doesn't count, Ron," Hermione said, smirking ruefully at him.

"What? Why not?" Ron asked, looking at her blankly. For someone with the emotional range of a teaspoon, as Hermione had said several times before, saying _I love you_ was a big deal, and he wanted the credit for it.

"Well, for one thing," Hermione stated, getting angrier than she had intended, "You were another girl's boyfriend at the time. And for another thing, I don't think you meant it."

"What? Of course I meant it!" Ron yelled without meaning to, "Why would you think I didn't mean it?"

"You were dating Lavender at the time," she reminded him mirthlessly, "And I had just volunteered to fix your essay that your Spell-Check quill had bollocksed up; hardly a resounding confession of your undying love for me."

Ron looked agog. He couldn't believe how wrong this was all starting to go. Things had finally been going right between them, and now one of the biggest mistakes he'd ever made…a mistake he'd thought had been put to rest…had resurfaced to ruin the best thing that had ever happened to him.

"I thought we were over this," Ron groaned, whining slightly, "I wasn't in love with Lavender. She was just --…"

"A warm piece of flesh for you to snog?" Hermione interrupted harshly.

"I was only with her because of you and Viktor!" he shot back angrily.

"Don't bring HIM into this!" her fury was near the breaking point, "He wasn't even around when you were messing around with…HER!" Hermione couldn't bring herself to even say Lavender's name anymore.

"No, but Ginny told me you'd snogged him during Fourth Year…at the Yule Ball," Ron exclaimed, trying to justify what he'd done, "I only messed about with La--…HER…to get back at you!"

"Real mature, Ron," Hermione sneered. Suddenly her eyes got wide as saucers and her face drained of color, "Wait a minute…I never snogged Viktor. He wanted to but I…Ginny told you I had?"

"When Harry and I caught her with Dean Thomas in one of the secret passages at Hogwarts," Ron nodded as he explained. His ears were scarlet and his temper was just as hot, "I yelled at her about being seen all over the school, snogging a different bloke every couple months. She said that everyone had snogged someone…her, Harry, YOU…and that I was just jealous because I…" he stopped, looking away from her. He couldn't finish…didn't want to finish.

"Because you _what_, Ron?" Hermione's anger toward Ron was abating quickly as she realized this…all of this…all of the problems she and Ron had been having for the last two years was all Ginny's fault.

"Because I…" his voice cracked, afraid of what Hermione might think of him, "Because I had all the romantic experience of a twelve-year-old. She said I was jealous because I'd never been with anyone and everybody else HAD. She suggested I go find someone to snog, and…"

He was crying. He'd hurt Hermione for the better part of a school-year and wasted so much time he could've spent with HER instead of vapid Lavender Brown all over a lie told to him by Ginny. He nearly ruined everything because of his groundless jealousy.

"And…?" Hermione was crying too.

"And I went right out and found the first girl willing to snog with me," he said, hanging his head and weeping openly, his hands over his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Ron," she said, quietly, nervously placing a hand on his shoulder. His body was shaking as he wept, "Ginny lied…I never would have done anything with Viktor…I wanted YOU to be the first boy that I ever kissed."

"What about Cormac McLaggen?" he croaked, his head still in his hands, unable to look at her.

"McLaggen? Oh, Ron…" she put her arms around him and put her head against his broad shoulders, "I used McLaggen to get back at YOU for Lavender. I never should have taken him to Slughorn's Christmas party."

"Did you kiss him?" Ron asked in a voice that was barely a whisper.

"Of course not, Ron," Hermione assured him. Tears were flowing freely, falling onto the back of Ron's maroon jumper, "He tried to trap me under the mistletoe…he's all hands, that McLaggen…but I managed to fight him off at every turn and then ran off at the first available moment. I'm sorry I did that, Ronald. We were both so stupid."

"I'm used to it," he said, digging at his eyes with the backs of his hands to wipe away the tears, "Been making stupid mistakes all my life. And I've been hurting you almost as long."

"Ron…" she didn't like seeing him like this, and she hated when he beat himself up over things he couldn't change, "It's in the past. Let's just forget about it and move on."

"I wish I had a Time Turner," he said more to himself than to Hermione, "Then I could go back to Fourth Year and fix everything."

"What would you fix?" she asked with a dreamy smile on her face.

"I'd be sure and ask you to be my date as soon as the Yule Ball was announced," he said reaching up and placing one of his hands on hers.

"And I'd say _yes_," she assured him, closing her eyes and imagining it happening, "Even with those hideous

dress robes of yours."

He sighed and shook his head. They _were_ hideous…not to mention too short. No girl deserved to be seen with a guy wearing them…especially someone like Hermione. She deserved only the best.

"You were gorgeous," Ron told her, lacing his fingers into hers, causing Hermione to tremble at the fact that he was now holding her hand, not just resting his on top of hers, "I'd never seen anyone as beautiful as you, Hermione."

"Thank you, Ron," she couldn't wipe the smile off her face at this point. She continued to imagine them back at Hogwarts during their Fourth Year. "Would you have danced with me?"

"God yes," he said quickly, "Anything to hold you in my arms."

"Would you have kissed me?" she whispered, her breath in his ear causing him to tingle all over.

"If you'd have let me," he whispered back.

"I would have then," she said, moving next to him to try and get him to look at her, "And I would now."

He looked up. His blue eyes were red and puffy from crying. Fighting with her, so soon after the pain of losing Fred, had taken its toll on him; he never wanted to fight with her again. She was so beautiful, like some sort of angel sent down from Heaven just for him.

"I've got new dress robes now," he said with a slight smile, turning to face her fully now.

"I've still got my ball gown," she replied, her smile much brighter than his, "Although after three years, it may be a little tight."

"May I have this dance, 'Mione?" Ron asked, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing each of her fingers. His voice was low and husky.

"Of…of course, Ronald," Hermione nodded, her whole body tingling as his lips touched each of her fingers in turn.

Ron wrapped his arms around her and pulled Hermione close to him. Their bodies pressed together and they could feel each other's heat coming through their clothing. He leaned backwards, laying down on the bed and pulling Hermione with him.

Hermione snaked her arms around his neck as his hands moved up and down her back. She was acutely aware that she was naked beneath the fuzzy pink bathrobe she wore; she didn't know if Ron was aware, but she thought he might have an inkling by the way he was stroking her back as if he were petting her fuzzy robe.

"'Mione…" Ron whispered as he broke the kiss after several minutes.

"Yes, Ron?" she, too, was whispering. It seemed that, since they had stopped yelling at one another, they couldn't help but whisper.

"I love you."

"Oh, Ronald…I love you, too!"

-- End Chapter 3--


	4. Moving Forward, Looking Back

**A/N:** I'll post again soon (I already have, like, 12 or 13 chapters written for this so far). Hopefully I'll get some reviews (whether good or bad) soon. Rated M for language and "stuff"

**Disclaimer:** J.K.R. owns this stuff.

"Harry Potter: Aftermath"

Chapter 4 -- Moving Forward, Looking Back

Harry stood under the shower spray, letting the hot water run over his body. He was on fire, and not because of the water. Ginny's kiss in the kitchen had overpowered him to the point of embarrassing himself in front of her.

She had laughed when she realized what had happened to Harry's formerly upstanding "little friend". Although the youngest Weasley child had no first-hand experience with what boys (and young men) kept in their pants, she'd heard things (from girlfriends) and read things (in magazines that the twins thought were well hidden). Ginny had never seen one…not a real one…before, but she was pretty sure that very soon she'd be seeing Harry's.

And Harry knew that there was very little chance of him preventing it. He WANTED her to see…to touch…to taste…! He knew it was wrong…well, maybe not wrong; they were in love, after all…but it was definitely a bad idea to do it while staying here at the Burrow.

Mrs. Weasley was incredibly protective of her daughter, and Harry was pretty sure if she caught him in a compromising position with Ginny, she'd come at him with a very large carving knife and remove the offending appendage from him in a very painful and bloodcurdling manner.

Harry shuddered at the thought of having his member hacked off by an angry Mrs. Weasley. He finished in the shower and dried off, heading up to Ron's room to get dressed in some clean clothes. There was still no sign of Ron, however, and he quickly dressed in jeans and a jumper; leaving so fast that he hadn't had time to put on his socks or trainers.

Harry padded, barefoot, down the steps from Ron's attic bedroom to the floor with Ginny's bedroom. He knocked on her door, but there was no answer. He called her name a few times, but received no reply. He listened at the door momentarily, but he couldn't hear a thing. He thought for sure Ginny would have come up to her room to get dressed, but now he was wondering if she was still down in the kitchen where he'd left her. He was also beginning to wonder where Ron and Hermione had gotten to.

He headed on downstairs, his bare feet making barely a sound on the steps as he descended them. Harry was once more dismayed as he entered the kitchen to find it empty. She wasn't in her room, and she wasn't where he'd left her…so where WAS she?

Harry was about to conduct a thorough search of the house for his girlfriend, when he caught glimpse of a flash of red hair out in the garden. He walked to the back door and saw her sitting in the grass in front of Fred's grave. He didn't want to intrude on her at a moment like this, so Harry decided to look for Ron and Hermione, figuring that they must still be in the house somewhere.

"Things are going to be tough with you gone, Fred," Ginny said softly, wiping a tear from her eye as she spoke to her brother's grave marker, "I don't know if Mum and George are going to make it. It scares me to see them like this."

Tears started to flow more freely now and she had to wipe her eyes on the sleeve of her bathrobe.

"The rest of us will go on, Fred," she sniffed, "But it's not going to be easy. We've got to live our lives, though. I think you'd have wanted us to. Am I right, Fred?"

Her nose was running and she wished she had something better to wipe her nose on besides the sleeve of her robe. She could imagine how scandalized her mother would be if she saw her doing that.

_"Ginevra Molly Weasley! Young ladies do not wipe their runny noses all over their sleeves!!"_

"Harry and I are going to be together," Ginny said as her vision of her mother faded from her mind, "I've been in love with him since I first laid eyes on him, and now that the war's over and Voldemort's dead…there's nothing keeping us from being together. I hope you're not mad that I'm going to try and be happy so soon after you died."

She broke down and started weeping freely, sobbing openly as she covered her face with her hands. It took her several moments to recover her composure and to stop sobbing enough to go on speaking.

"We need to be happy again, Fred," she sniffed, "Maybe it is too soon, maybe I'm a horrible sister for wanting to enjoy life and find some happiness…I'm sure Mum would say so. _No daughter of mine would cavort with a boy so soon after her dear brother passed away!_"

Ginny got to her knees and kissed the tips of two fingers and then lightly pressed it against Fred's grave marker.

"I love you, Fred, and I'm going to miss you every single day," she slowly got to her feet, "But I'm going to put on a brave front for everyone…I'll be strong for them. I think you'd have wanted it that way."

She blew a final kiss to her brother's grave and wiped away the last of her tears before turning around and walking back into the house. Ginny knew that things weren't going to be easy, that her family had a gaping hole in it that could never be filled, but she fully believed that with the love she felt for Harry Potter, things would get better.

"Ronald…"

"Yes, 'Mione…?"

"Now that I'm your girlfriend…"

"Yes…?"

"And you've told me you love me…"

"Yes…?"

"And I told you I love you…"

"Yes…?"

"And we've had our first fight as a couple…"

He sighed sadly at that, wishing they hadn't fought, but glad that they'd made up quickly enough.

"Yes…?"

"We need to finish our _no secrets_ discussion."

"Bloody Hell…"

Hermione pouted at him, her eyes looking remarkably like those of a sad puppy dog. They were still in Ginny's room, lying together in Hermione's bed, their arms wrapped tightly around each other. Several minutes had been spent with their lips locked and their tongues entwined after they'd finally admitted their love for one another.

It was wonderful, and Hermione never ever wanted to leave the warmth and safety of Ron's embrace. There was quite a lot of heat being generated between the two of them, and every moment that it continued, Hermione became more and more aware of her naked body underneath her fuzzy pink robe…and what Ron's body, pressed so close to her, was doing to it. She needed to take her mind off the heat she was feeling, and the best way was to talk about things they didn't want to talk about.

"Ron…please…I need us to finish this," she pleaded with him, knowing he'd give in.

"What's your next question?" he sighed, giving in as she knew he would.

"It's about…HER," she said, referring to Lavender Brown.

"Bloody Hell…" he really wanted her to get over the whole Lavender Brown thing, because every time her name came up, it started a fight.

"Did you sleep with her, Ron?" Hermione held her breath after asking the question.

"WHAT?!" Ron nearly jumped up out of bed, and if Hermione wasn't wrapped around him, he would have.

"Did you have sex with her? I need to know, Ron." She needed to know, but she was afraid to know.

"No."

"No, _you didn't have sex_, or no, _you won't answer me_?" Hermione's eyes were starting to tear up as she imagined the worst.

"Of course I didn't have sex with her," Ron answered, frowning at the need for this line of questioning.

"You dated her for six months, Ron," Hermione gave him a look of almost disbelief, "Nothing happened?"

"Well, I didn't WANT to date her for six months, did I?" he snapped, trying to pull away from her. As he did, she held tighter to him, placing a leg over him and entwining it with his own legs.

"Six months and nothing happened?" she was so glad to hear that Ron hadn't slept with Lavender that she didn't mind that, when she moved her leg up onto him, her robe opened enough to expose her body below the waist. Ron, however, was too angry to notice at the moment.

"I didn't say _nothing_ happened," Ron corrected her, attempting in vain to extricate himself from Hermione's limbs.

"Then what DID happen?" Hermione asked realizing she probably wasn't going to like the answer despite her momentary elation at him not having made love to Lavender.

"'Mione, please don't make me…"

"No secrets, Ron. Tell me."

He closed his eyes. He couldn't look at her as he told her what he'd done with Lavender Brown.

"I…she…she let me touch her…through her jumper. Once."

"You touched her breasts?" Hermione's voice cracked as she said it. Ron nodded. "Nothing else?"

"Through her jumper…no skin...nothing else; and only once."

Ron's eyes remained closed. He couldn't look at her. He didn't dare. What if her eyes, which had so recently shined with her undying love for him, now shone with hurt and betrayal and hatred? He would die…it would kill him.

"Ron…look at me…" she placed her hand gently along his cheek. Tears were swimming at the corners of her eyes, but he looked so pained, so disappointed and angry with himself that she couldn't possibly be hurt or angry with him. He was still the man she loved, still the one that her heart belonged to.

"You hate me now," he said, closing his eyes, and clenching his jaw. His lip quivered slightly.

"Ron…Ronald…" her voice was soft and sweet, practically cooing as she said his name and stroked his cheek, "Not only do I not hate you, but I could _never_ hate you. You're the man of my dreams, the love of my life."

He opened his eyes and looked at her. There were tears swimming at the corners of his brilliant blue eyes. His quivering lips seemed to draw up at the corners, as if trying to smile.

"So you forgive me, then, for what I did?"

She smiled at him, a loving, tender smile that spoke volumes. "Of course I do. It's in the past. And now that it's out in the open, we can put it to rest."

"Meaning…?"

"Meaning we don't have to fight over it anymore," she said, kissing him on the nose and causing him to look like he'd just been hit by a Bludger, "As long as neither one of us brings up HER --…"

"Or HIM," he added quietly.

"Or HIM," she nodded, "Then we'll just leave it buried in the past."

"Okay," he smiled weakly, putting his arms around her and pulling her tightly to him.

"Besides," she smiled, nuzzling against his chest, "I'm sure there'll be loads of things for us to fight over in the future."

Harry stood once more in the kitchen, dumbfounded. He couldn't find Ron and Hermione anywhere in the house. He'd checked all of the rooms except for George's and Mrs. Weasley's…for obvious reasons. Ginny's door was locked, and there was no answer and no sound coming from within, so he figured they weren't in there, either. After all, if Ron and Hermione were off doing what he thought they might be doing, they'd be making plenty of noise.

He was actually a little angry that his two best friends had gone off somewhere without him, but then if they were doing what he thought they were, well, the last thing they'd want is an audience, and the last thing he'd want is to BE an audience. Harry had other things on his mind anyway, as Ginny chose that moment to come walking back into the house after her talk with Fred's grave.

"Hello there, Mr. Potter," Ginny said with a saucy smile. It was a little forced, but she hoped Harry wouldn't notice.

"Hi, Miss Weasley," he replied, walking over to give her a hug, "Everything all right?"

"Fine, Harry," she replied, reaching down to pinch his bum.

"HEY!!" Harry squealed, jumping in surprise.

"Sorry," she lied, reaching up to kiss him sweetly on the lips, "Want to take a walk by the pond?" She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. They were finally back together after nearly a year apart, and Ginny was determined to get them back to where they were before he broke up with her.

"Sure," he nodded, enjoying the idea of a long walk holding hands by the pond, which would hopefully end with them snogging under the shade of a nearby tree.

"Great. Let me just go get dressed," she said kissing him quickly before turning and running up the stairs, "I'll be down in a minute!"

Harry took a seat while he waited. He could still taste her kisses on his lips, and couldn't wait to get her alone outside where he could spend the day re-familiarizing himself with the sweetness of her lips. Before he got too comfortable, however, there was a commotion from upstairs and the sound of Ginny yelling.

"Who the Hell locked my door?!"

--End Chapter 4--


	5. Redheaded Fury

**A/N:** I just realized that the symbols I've been using () to signify a scene change didn't translate through when I uploaded the previous four chapters...and I just noticed that today (not very observent, am I?). I'm hoping there wasn't too much confusion for those of you who've been reading this story. And speaking of you story-readers, let me take this opportunity to thank you for reading my first attempt at a Harry Potter fanfic (when I first picked up a Harry Potter book earlier this year, I had no idea I'd fall in love with these characters enough to want to write a fanfiction about them). And let me say a very special THANK YOU to the two readers who took the time to write a review for my story. (**Edinburgh Love**,** Ann Malfoy** and **Cantletharrygo** thank you SO much!) I'm doing my best to keep the characterization in my story in line with JKR's books...if I don't, however, let m apologize ahead of time.

Story Rated M for language and naughty stuff.

**Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling owns this stuff.

* * *

"Aftermath"

Chapter 5 -- Redheaded Fury

"Who the Hell locked my door?"

Ginny was yelling upstairs and he could hear her pounding on the door to her room. Harry got up and made his way up the steps, coming up behind the youngest Weasley, her hair flying about as she angrily hit and kicked her door.

"That better not be you in there, Ronald Weasley!" she yelled. She turned as she saw Harry come up behind her, grabbing his hand. "Use your wand, Harry…open my door!!"

"I thought _you_ had locked it," Harry said, surprised at her reaction, "When I was looking for Ron and Hermione earlier…it was locked and really quiet inside."

"Oh, ewwwww!!" Ginny made a face at the thought of what Ron and Hermione might be doing in her room. She began banging angrily on the door again, screaming at it. "You get out here right now!! Stop whatever you're doing!! NOT IN MY ROOM!!"

Harry smirked as his girlfriend continued to assault her bedroom door. He was tempted to let her continue to rail against the offending portal, but he realized almost too late that the noise she was making was bound to disturb Mrs. Weasley.

"Ginny, come on, stop," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. She shot him a withering glare and he started to pull back until her face softened and her eyes took on an apologetic glint. "Stand back, and I'll open it."

Before Harry could produce his wand from his pocket and cast the Door-Opening spell, a voice from behind them caused them to jump and turn on the spot.

"Oi!! What's all the bloody noise?!" George Weasley's angry face was poking out of the doorway to the room he'd formerly shared with his brother, Fred, "I may have only one ear, but I can hear the racket you lot are making just as well as a two-eared man!!"

"Sorry George," Harry said, casting his eyes down and blushing.

"It's not MY fault, George!" Ginny yelled taking a couple steps towards him and pointing accusingly at the door to her room, "Ron and Hermione are locked in my room doing who knows what and…"

Ginny never got a chance to finish her explanation. George cast a sour looking glare at her and retreated back inside his room, slamming the door behind him. The youngest Weasley stood in the hall and stamped her foot angrily, annoyed at George's lack of concern for her discomfiture.

"Ginny, come on, calm down," Harry said, taking her hand. She almost pulled away, but relented, not wanting to inflict her anger at other people on the man she loved. She nodded in defeat and moved next to him, hoping for a hug. He read her mind, or so it seemed, as he quickly encircled her in an embrace and held her tight. "I'll open the door for you."

"Good. And when you do, I'm going to Bat-Bogey Ron into oblivion!"

Harry smirked as he moved towards her door with his wand pointed in front of him.

_"Alohamora!"_

The door to Ginny's room unlocked, and the redheaded girl quickly ran into the room, jumping on her bed and grabbing her wand from the bedside table where she'd left it. She turned quickly looking for her brother and Hermione, but she and Harry were the only two people in the room.

* * *

The Silencio spell Hermione had cast on Ginny's door prevented those outside from hearing what was happening inside, but she and Ron could hear, quite vividly, the ruckus that was erupting right outside the bedroom door.

"They're coming in!" Hermione gasped sitting up quickly, pulling herself forcibly out of Ron's arms. She didn't want to be caught in a compromising position with Ron here in the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley had been through too much to have to be put through the scandal of catching her youngest son in bed with his girlfriend.

"Ginny's pissed," Ron smirked, noticing, finally, that Hermione's robe had opened slightly below the waist. His eyes widened at he caught a glimpse of the smooth, gentle curve of her thigh, and the delicate rosy cleft of…

"RON!!" Hermione yelled hitting him on the arm, "Get up!!"

Ron blinked several times, trying to remove the image of Hermione's delectable flesh from his mind's eye. It was an impossible task.

"RON!!" Hermione was frantic now, running around grabbing clothes to change into.

Ron struggled to his feet, his mind working even more slowly than usual.

"Bloody Hell, I'm up, alright?!" he growled slightly as he watched her flit and fly around the room. "What do you want me to do?"

"Disapparate," she said, casting a glance over her shoulder, "They won't hear you go because of the Silencing Charm."

"Can't," Ron said, numbly, "My wand's up in my room."

"What?! Merlin's pants, Ron!" she yelled exasperated, "Why would you leave your wand in your room?!"

"Bloody Hell, 'Mione, I wasn't planning on having to escape from my little sister's room!" he bellowed.

"Fine!" she snapped, rushing over to grab his arm, "I'll Side-Along you. Ready?"

Before Ron could utter a protest, Hermione began turning around and suddenly there was the feeling of being yanked inside out through his bellybutton, followed by a loud _crack_ that was muffled by Hermione's Silencio spell. Less than a second later, Harry could be heard yelling _"Alohamora!"_ and then the door burst open.

Of course, Ron and Hermione weren't there. They had just Apparated into the middle of Ron's bedroom. Ron quickly checked himself to see if he'd been Splinched, as he had when he Side-Alonged with Hermione as they fled the Ministry of Magic after retrieving the locket Horcrux last year.

"Turn around, Ron," Hermione said quickly, drawing his attention to her.

"Huh? Why?"

"Because I need to get dressed," she told him sternly, "If they come looking for us up here, I don't want to be found in just my bathrobe."

"Fine," Ron grumped, turning to face away from her. He heard the soft sound of her bathrobe hitting the floor and he suddenly found himself wishing there was a mirror on the wall he was facing so he could see more of Hermione's luscious body.

Hermione was so flustered that her hands were shaking as she fumbled to get her clothes on quickly. She cursed under breath as she realized she hadn't had a chance to grab any underwear; she would just have to go without it until she could make her way back to Ginny's room. She nearly fell over as she put on her jeans, and then quickly pulled a light blue jumper over her head.

"You can turn around now, Ron," she said, looking up and smiling slightly, "I'm dressed."

He hadn't tried peeking at her, and that meant a lot to her. Not that she didn't want him to see her body…or to see his body, herself…but now was not the time. She felt like she had when they were on the run searching for Horcruxes; as if at any minute someone could burst in on them and attack. Of course, that was silly. The war was over, and no one was going to attack them…unless it was Ginny, still in a rage over having been locked out of her room.

Ron picked up his wand and sat down on his bed, watching Hermione as she began pacing back and forth. She was wringing her hands and looking increasingly anxious.

"Oi! What's wrong, 'Mione?" he asked, gazing at her with concern in his blue eyes.

"This is not how I wanted this to go," she said, finally plopping down on Harry's camp bed, her mane of frizzy brown hair flopping around as she did.

"Not how you wanted _what_ to go?" Ron asked, perplexed, "We managed to scarper off just fine."

"It's not how I wanted our first day together to go," she sobbed, "First we had a fight and then we had to run for our lives from your sister!"

"'Mione, we've been fighting since First Year," he laughed, running his fingers through his red hair, "We wouldn't be us if we didn't."

"Yeah, but I thought…when we were _finally_ together…" she buried her face in her hands, tears flowing freely, "We would stop fighting. At the very least, we wouldn't start fighting the day we declared our feelings for each other!"

Ron moved over and knelt in front of her, wrapping his arms around her waist and gazing lovingly into her face. She looked down at him, wiping her tears away with the backs of her hands.

"'Mione…I love you. I have loved you since before I even realized I could love someone. You're the only woman I could ever want to be with, and the only woman I could ever see myself with in the future," Ron was pouring his heart out to her, a prospect that had been made much easier since they'd finally admitted their feelings to each other, "Today I made you my girlfriend, and one day soon I'd like to make you my wife…and eventually the mother of my own brood of redheaded Weasleys."

She gasped as he said all this to her. She knew he loved her, but to hear him saying all this…baring his heart to her…it made her melt inside.

"Ron, I…"

"Shh…let me finish," he said with a smile, leaning up to kiss her lips briefly, "I always thought of our fights as…well…as a cockeyed way of flirting. Neither one of us was brave enough to admit our feelings for each other, so we fought. I have never had a row with anyone like I have with you, and I can't imagine ever doing so. The fights we had were because of our passion for each other…and I think that now that we're together, we can find _other_ ways of expressing our _passion_."

Hermione blushed as he said that. He was talking about the two of them having sex…no…making love…and she could imagine how explosive an experience that would be when they finally indulged in it.

"Ron…" she said as he finished expressing himself to her, "I can hardly wait for us to…express…our….passion…for each other in something other than a fight. But I need to ask you a favor."

"Anything, 'Mione," he said, gazing lovingly into her chocolate-colored eyes.

"I want us to…make love," she said, blushing, "But I want to wait until after I return from Australia."

* * *

"They're gone?! I thought for sure they were in here!" Ginny snapped, looking around her room for any signs of Ron and Hermione.

"What's the big deal?" Harry asked as he followed her into the room and took a seat on Hermione's bed…which he noticed was quite disheveled, as if someone had quickly vacated it.

"I…well…there's no big deal really, I guess," Ginny shrugged, starting to calm down. She sat on her bed opposite Harry, "I was just mad at being locked out, and assuming that Ron and Hermione were…you know...going at it in here."

Harry winced at the idea of his two best friends doing what Ginny was talking about. Catching them in the act was the only reason Harry had used his wand to unlock the door instead of Apparating into the room. He figured the noise Ginny was making was enough to warn Ron and Hermione…if they were inside the room…and give them a chance to leave. And it seemed to have worked.

He reached out and patted her hand, glad she had calmed herself down. "I guess Ron and Hermione went off to spend some time together alone."

"Yeah," she nodded, "You think they've finally gotten together?"

"I don't know," he shrugged, "If not, then I think I'm going to have to strangle them both. I can't put up with one more year of them fighting with each other because they're too thick to admit they're in love."

"I know," Ginny nodded, "Isn't horrible when people won't admit how they feel to the person they love?"

She shot him a knowing look, and he picked up on it quickly. She was talking about him and his stubborn insistence that they not be together. He sighed and looked down at his feet.

"If it's any comfort, Ginny," he said, softly, "I wasn't denying my feelings for you…I was trying to keep you safe _because_ of my feelings for you."

She sighed, rolling her eyes. Ginny didn't want to go through this again. The past was the past and they both had to get on with their lives…life was too short and too precious to sit around moping about the past.

"Alright then, Mr. Potter," she said standing up quickly, grabbing his hands and pulling him to his feet, "You need to get out."

"What? But --…" Harry was confused. Why would Ginny kick him out?

"We're going to take a walk, remember?" she reminded him, poking him in the ribs and causing him to flinch, "I need to get dressed."

"Right. Sorry."

He moved across to the door and quickly left the room, closing the door behind him and waiting out in the hall. Harry took a seat on the steps and waited for Ginny…for his girlfriend…to finish getting dressed so they could go and take the very first romantic walk of their renewed relationship.

Less than five minutes passed and Ginny came running out of her room, dressed in a pair of shorts and a pink top. She grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him to her feet, kissing him on the cheek.

"Okay, Mr. Potter," she chirped, leading them down the steps, "Let's take that walk…and if you play your cards right, you might just get lucky today!"

-- End Chapter 5 --


	6. Invitations & Rejections

**A/N:** Once again, thank you to everyone who's reading this story...and especially those of you who've put this story in your Favorites. And for those who've reviewed my story (**Edinburgh Love** and **Cantletharrygo**), even greater thanks!! And for **Ann Malfoy** (who reviewed my story twice and had such wonderful things to say about me and my story) extra-special SUPER THANKS!

I'm going to try posting one chapter a night. Hopefully I can maintain that schedule.

This story is rated M for language and some naughty stuff.

**Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling owns this stuff.

* * *

"Aftermath"

Chapter 6 -- Invitations and Rejections

Harry and Ginny sat beneath the shade of a beech tree on the banks of the pond at the bottom of the Burrow's garden. Harry had his back propped against the trunk of the tree, and Ginny sat between his legs with her back against his chest. His arms were wrapped around her waist and she rested her hands on top of his. It was getting to be late morning, and was looking like it was going to be a beautiful spring day.

"This is nice, eh Mr. Potter?" Ginny caressed his hands as she spoke, sighing as she enjoyed the peacefulness of being with him…her Harry.

"Mm-hmm," Harry agreed. He closed his eyes and nuzzled his face into her long mane of lustrous red hair, "Beats fighting Voldemort."

"Not exactly the ringing endorsement I was looking for," she said with a smirk. She pinched his arm causing him to flinch, "Although I am glad to know spending time with me isn't QUITE as excruciating for you as fighting the evilest wizard of all time."

"Well it wasn't," he quipped, pinching her leg in retaliation, "Until you pinched me!"

Ginny pulled free of Harry's arms and soon the two of them were rolling on the ground, tickling and pinching and kissing each other as if the rest of the world didn't exist; and for the two of them, at that particular moment, the rest of the world _didn't_ exist…the entirety of creation was Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley and their love for one another.

The playfulness continued for several minutes until their kissing took on a more serious timbre, and soon Harry lay atop Ginny, their tongues entwined in a passionate embrace that the two equally hoped their bodies would soon mimic.

Ginny took Harry's hand, as they writhed on the ground, kissing, and slipped it up under her pink vest top until her round, supple breast popped into the palm of his hand. She hadn't worn a bra. Harry tensed up as he felt her naked breast, his thumb tracing over the nipple causing Ginny to tremble and moan.

There was no telling how far the young couple might have gone under the shade of the beech tree had they not been interrupted. The sound of rustling in the grass at their feet and a pair of impatient hoots drew their attention and forced them apart. Harry nearly ripped Ginny's top as he quickly yanked his hand free.

A pair of tawny brown owls stood in the grass, hopping impatiently from foot-to-foot; letters were attached to their legs, one addressed to Harry, the other to Ginny. The couple exchanged looks and then started laughing at the absurdity of being caught in the act by a pair of post owls.

The owls hopped forward, anxious to be rid of their cargo, hooting and pecking at the teenagers' feet. They reached for the parcels, freeing them from the owls' legs, and the tawny birds quickly took to the sky in a hustle and bustle of feathers.

Momentarily distracted from their snogging, Ginny and Harry ripped open their envelopes and pulled out the letters inside.

* * *

"Ron…I can hardly wait for us to…express…our….passion…for each other in something other than a fight. But I need to ask you a favor."

"Anything, 'Mione…"

"I want us to…make love, but I want to wait until after I return from Australia."

There it was. The nine-hundred-pound Blast-Ended Skrewt in the room that no one was talking about. Hermione was leaving. Ron looked down at his feet, not wanting her to see the disappointment in his eyes; not about not getting to make love to her now, although Lord knows he wanted to, but the disappointment of being apart from her.

"Must you go?" he asked, his voice barely audible.

"Ron…you know I must," she said sternly, taking his hand in hers, "I have to find my parents and return their memories. You have to understand that. I mean, I haven't seen them in almost a year!"

Tears were threatening to spill from her eyes. She looked to him for some acknowledgement of understanding, but he wouldn't look at her. He continued to stare down at his feet, shuffling them back and forth on the old wooden floor.

"I don't want you to go…"

"Ron, how selfish can you be?!"

"…Without me."

Ron looked up at her, and there were tears in his stunning blue eyes. Hermione was taken back with the pain evident on his face. He wasn't being selfish, she realized…not entirely selfish, anyway. He just didn't want to be without her. They'd barely been apart in the last twelve months, and the prospect of finally separating was frightening…for both of them.

Hermione threw her arms around him as kissed him soundly.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley," she whispered after they broke the kiss, "I love you."

"I love you, too…Hermione Jean Granger…which is why I want to go with you."

"That means the world to me, Ron," she said, caressing his cheek, "That you don't want me to have to do this on my own. But you need to stay here…for your Mum and George."

He looked down, not wanting to let her see the pain in his eyes. She was right of course; his family needed him right now. There was no way he could leave them right now. No way could he abandon them to run off with Hermione to Australia. He would have to forgo his own happiness, his own desires, in favor of his family.

"How long?" he asked, still not looking at her, knowing that to look into her cinnamon-colored eyes would bring him to tears again.

"I don't know, Ron," she admitted, sighing sadly at the monstrous undertaking in front of her, "I don't know where they settled, and Australia is a large country. But I promise, Ron, I won't stay there a second longer than I have to. I'll be running home to you before you know it."

"Not nearly soon enough," he said softly.

"I know, Ron," she sighed again and leaned in to kiss his soft lips; a chaste little peck, "Things are never easy for us, are they Ron? So many obstacles to us being together; almost as if it's not meant to be."

"Don't say that!" Ron gasped, his eyes flying open. Tears no longer filled those brilliant blue eyes, but determination, "Don't _dare_ say that! We're meant to be, 'Mione, don't ever doubt that!"

"I won't, Ron, I promise," Hermione caressed his cheek and they kissed again, "I'll never doubt _us_ ever again."

He wrapped his arms tightly around her and held her close. They didn't speak, they didn't kiss, they just held each other, enjoying each other's closeness…the warmth of their bodies pressed together, the safeness they felt whenever they held each other.

The silence of the room was shattered by tapping coming from outside the windowpane. They looked up to see a pair of tawny brown owls sitting expectantly on the window ledge, tapping away, trying to get in. Hermione got to her feet and opened the window. The two owls flew inside, one of them landing on the bed next to Ron, the other landing at Hermione's feet. Both owls had envelopes attached to their legs.

"What the bloody Hell is this?" Ron exclaimed as he removed the letter addressed to him from the leg of the owl on his bed. The owl quickly took to the air and flew back out the window from whence it came.

Hermione, too, had removed her letter from the other owl's leg, and her delivery owl followed its companion back out the window. "Ron, they're from Hogwarts!"

* * *

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Headmistress: Minerva McGonagall_

_Dear Students:_

_Due to unfortunate circumstances beyond the school's control, the remainder of the school year had been canceled. The school is currently undergoing reconstruction and renovation and we are proud to report that the school __will__ re-open as scheduled on 1 September._

_Current Fifth and Seventh Year students will be given a chance to sit their respective O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. exams (based on curricula learned thus far) during the month of August. Scheduled times and places for the exams will be sent via owl to those students no later than 1 July. Students wishing to sit their exams at the scheduled time must respond no later than 31 July to register with the examination board._

_A letter containing the books and equipment list for the upcoming school year will be sent via owl to all returning Hogwarts students during the month of August as scheduled._

_Sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Headmistress_

* * *

"The summer holiday has come a little early," Ginny commented as she read the letter, "Not surprising considering the condition the castle's in. Harry?"

Harry hadn't paid attention to Ginny's comments. He was too engrossed at the _second_ letter that was included in his envelope.

_

* * *

_

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

_Headmistress: Minerva McGonagall_

_Dear Mr. Potter:_

_As you were unable to attend your Seventh Year as scheduled due to extenuating circumstances, I would like to take this opportunity to present you with your options. Although you did not attend your Seventh Year, allowances could be made, and you could sit your N.E.W.T. exams alongside the rest of your class. Or, if you choose, you may attend your Seventh Year at Hogwarts in the fall alongside the new class of Seventh Year students._

_Should you decide not to avail yourself of either of these options, please rest assured that the practical experience you have gained over the past year will doubtless allow you to continue on into your chosen career path. I have spoken with Acting Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt about your earlier desire to become an Auror, and he assures me that you will have no problem being accepted into any department within the Ministry._

_I look forward to receiving an owl containing your decision at your earliest convenience._

_With Sincerest Admiration,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Headmistress_

* * *

Ginny looked over his shoulder and read his additional letter, eyes wide in surprise.

"Blimey, Harry!" she exclaimed, sounding remarkably like her brother, Ron, "Must be nice being the hero of the entire wizarding world!"

He looked up at her with a slightly hurt look in his eye. He knew Ginny was only having him on, but he really didn't like receiving special treatment for what he'd done…especially after the price it had cost the people he loved.

Ginny hugged him tight from behind, her braless breasts crushing into his back, making him tremble. "Wouldn't it be nice if you came back to school with me in September? We'd be in the same year, finally."

"That would be nice," Harry said softly. Of course, he thought it would be even nicer if they were both done with school and they could get on with their life together. "Although, after all that's happened, I don't know if I can go back to Hogwarts."

* * *

"This is wonderful, Ron!" Hermione exclaimed as she quickly read through the letters in her envelope from Hogwarts. She and Ron had both received personalized letters from Professor McGonagall just as Harry did. "We can go back to Hogwarts and make up our Seventh Year!

"Are you mental?" Ron replied with all the tact of a wet dishrag, "It says we don't need to go back or take our N.E.W.T.s and we can still get jobs at the Ministry. I could still be an Auror!"

"After all we've been through, you _still_ want to be an Auror?" Hermione looked agog at him. They hadn't talked much about the future since the Battle of Hogwarts – everything had been put on hold while the wounded were tended to and the dead were buried – but she had assumed his childish desire to run off and battle dark wizards had been left behind. "Haven't you fought enough Death Eaters this past year?"

"I thought you of all people would understand _why_ I would want to be an Auror," Ron snapped. How could she not get it?

"Enlighten me, Ron," she said, crossing her arms across her chest and screwing her face up into a petulant glare.

"I want…I _need_…to make sure the world is a safe place for my family!" He'd never told anyone this before, and he needed Hermione to understand him. Before the life-and-death struggle of the past year, Ron had merely thought being an Auror – fighting bad guys like in the storybooks – sounded romantic and _cool_. Now, however, Ron realized that the wizarding world could be a dangerous place and someone had to protect the people he loved.

"Ron, I can understand the desire to protect your family after what happened to Fred. You're talking to the girl who made her parents forget her and then sent them halfway across the planet to keep them safe," she was trying her best to be sympathetic, considering how recent the loss of Fred had been, but she didn't think it was fair that he put his life on hold to play guardian angel to his family, "But they really can take care of themselves. You saw how fiercely they fought at Hogwarts! And I really don't think your parents want you to spend your whole life watching over them."

Ron was gobsmacked. He gaped open-mouthed at Hermione. She really _didn't_ get it!

"Not _this_ family, 'Mione," he said, waving his arms around to indicate the Burrow and its residents. He then pointed back-and-forth between himself and Hermione, "I mean _this_ family! Us…_our_ family!"

"_Our_ family?" she looked at him, wide-eyed, as she was finally catching on, "Ron…"

"Keeping you and our children safe is my responsibility, Hermione," he looked at her with blue eyes blazing with determination, "And the best way I can think of to do that is to be an Auror."

Hermione threw herself at him and kissed him deeply. He was a good man...not a boy, not anymore…he was a man, and he was _her_ man. They fell backwards on the bed, snogging passionately, and as their bodies pressed against each other, Hermione found herself, for the first time, glad that she hadn't had time to grab her undergarments before Disapparating out of Ginny's room.

His chest was pressing against her breasts; his thigh that had slipped between her legs was pushing oh-so-wonderfully against her most tender of parts. She gasped into his mouth as she could feel Ron…his manhood…pressing against her inner thigh. When they finally broke apart, she was beneath him, gazing up into his intense blue eyes.

"I still want to go back for Seventh Year," she said, almost out of breath, hating herself for changing the subject and undoubtedly ruining the moment.

"Bloody Hell!!"

-- End Chapter 6 --

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* * *

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**A/N: **I hope you enjoyed this...and I hope to see you all tomorrow when I post the next chapter. --BH13


	7. Apologies & Acceptance

**Author's Notes: **And my very first Harry Potter fanfic keeps on rolling! Like I said (in previous Author's Notes), I'm going to do my best to keep posting one chapter each day...and for the next week or so, I should be able to maintain that schedule.

As always, thanks to everyone who's reading this, and to those of you who've taken the time to review (**Edinburgh Love, Ann Malfoy, Cantletharrygo, CutewithAcapital-Q**). I just figured out today that I could reply to you guys personally. Heh...guess I'm a bit slow. I hope everyone continues to enjoy this story...and if you don't, I apologize.

Story rated M for language and naughty stuff.

**Disclaimer:** The Harry Potter universe is entirely J.K. Rowling's sandbox. I'm just playing in it while she's no looking (she's got better sand toys than I do).

* * *

**"Aftermath"**

Chapter 7 -- Apologies and Acceptance

With Hermione having destroyed the romantic moment between herself and Ron, they got up off his bed and went back-and-forth, arguing over the Pros and Cons of returning to Hogwarts for another year versus going off to start a career right away. There were excellent arguments from both parties and in the end they wound up stalemated. Hermione was going to go back to Hogwarts, and Ron was going to get a job.

"Ever since I was a little girl…since the letter came, telling me I was special and not just…_different_…I dreamed of making it all the way through Hogwarts."

The way Hermione said _different_ let Ron know that she meant it in a bad way. Being _different_ in Muggle society must truly be a bad thing. She _was_ special, and he knew she deserved to have every single one of her dreams come true. He just hoped that some of those dreams included him.

"I know you're always telling me it doesn't matter to you that I'm poor," Ron said, looking down.

"Ron…!"

He waved her off, silencing her protests, "I know…but if we're going to get married and start a family, I'll need to get a good job and start saving."

"Ron, I don't want to start our own Weasley brood right away," she said, trying to keep her tone light so that he wouldn't take it as a rejection, "Maybe in seven or eight years. I mean, we're only eighteen."

Ron looked at her, his eyes full of hurt. He did, indeed, take that as a rejection. "What about getting married? Are you not ready for that either?"

"Ron…" Hermione knew she had to defuse this situation quickly before yet another row broke out between the two, "If you mean am I ready to marry you this instant, then no, I'm not ready. Do I _want_ to marry you? Yes, I _do_."

His face still bore the hurt expression, but his frown seemed to quiver a little bit at the corners of his mouth, as if trying to lift into a smile…or at the very least a grin.

"Once I'm done with Hogwarts," she continued, causing the quivering frown to return to full frown mode, "We'll do it…we'll get married. Until then, I can't, so please don't ask."

"So I can't even propose to you until you're out of school?" he looked devastated.

Hermione looked at him. He was so sad that it made her heart ache. He loved her so much, and she loved him just as much. Getting engaged before she'd finished school didn't seem like it would do any harm…provided she made some rules for Ron to follow.

"Ron, we can get engaged _before_ I leave for Hogwarts on two conditions," she held up two fingers and looked deadly serious. Ron nodded his head, signaling for her to continue. "Number One: At no point between getting engaged and my graduation from Hogwarts do you try to talk me into getting married ahead of time. I'll have a lot on my plate, studying up for my N.E.W.T.s, and I don't want to be pressured by you while I'm already being pressured by my workload at school."

He nodded, but didn't say a word. Ron was a nervous wreck wondering what her second condition would be and if he would be able to live up to it. "And the second condition?"

"Number Two," she continued, "You don't freak out over trying to get me an engagement ring. I'll have you…I won't need a ring."

"'Mione…" he said in a whiny sort of voice, "You deserve a ring…Hell you deserve a bloke who can _give_ you a ring!"

"Ron! I'm serious!" she spoke very sternly to him, reminding him of his mother or…God forbid…Professor McGonagall, "First sign of a freak-out, and I won't let you propose to me until I've been made Minister for Magic!"

"Right, well, that should take you about a week," Ron said, smirking at her. He fully believed that if she desired it, the post of Minister for Magic could easily be hers. She was just that amazing.

Flattered by his comment and wanting to put an end to this discussion once and for all, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply and passionately, drawing him down onto the bed next to her. As their tongues intertwined and his arms encircled her, she could not think of a better way to spend her last day in Britain before leaving to find her parents in Australia.

* * *

Once the Hogwarts letters had come and the post owls had departed, the romantic mood out by the pond under the beech tree had been broken. Ginny was excited about the news of her extended summer holiday – which she felt sure would give her more time to explore her rekindled romance with Harry – and about the news that Hogwarts was being rebuilt and would re-open in the fall as usual.

Harry, on the other hand, was maudlin…again. The news about Hogwarts was great, and he appreciated Professor McGonagall's offers, but he really wasn't sure what he wanted to do now. He'd spent so much time and energy fighting Voldemort that now that he was dead, Harry didn't know what to do with himself.

The idea of going back to Hogwarts to make up his Seventh Year had its perks…Ginny, for one. They'd be in the same year and have classes together, and that meant spending a lot of time together. But the thought of a Hogwarts without Dumbledore…it was heartbreaking. He'd meant so much to Harry, and he missed him terribly. The school wouldn't be the same, and even with the perks (Ginny), he wondered if he could handle going back.

Harry figured that Ron and Hermione must be having these same feelings, provided McGonagall had extended the same courtesy to them that she had to him. He was willing to bet that Hermione would want to go back for her Seventh Year…dropping out to hunt Horcruxes had seemed to hurt her more than it had him or Ron. He could well imagine Ron would want to forget about going back to school and just get out there and get a job.

"Let's go see if Ron and Hermione got a letter like yours," Ginny said, pulling him up towards the house.

"Do you even know where they are?" Harry asked as he trudged along behind her, "I couldn't find them before."

"Well, it's closing in on lunchtime," she said, looking over her shoulder with that dazzling smile of hers, the one that melted his heart and sent tingles straight to his…man parts, "Ron's sure to be hungry and looking for a bite."

They reached the house and walked into the kitchen through the back door. To Ginny's dismay, there was no sign of Ron…or anyone else for that matter. A sudden wash of guilt flashed over the young redhead as she realized that she'd spent the whole day frolicking with Harry and hadn't once checked in on her mother or George.

"Harry," Ginny said, suddenly sounding a bit morose and melancholy, "You go look for Ron; I want to check on Mum."

Harry nodded and while Ginny headed up the stairs to check on her mother in her parents' room, he checked the ground floor, once more, to see if Ron and Hermione were about. There was, of course, no sign of them, so he decided to check Ron's room. He hadn't been there when Harry woke up that morning, but Ron could have since returned.

Seeing as he shared Ron's bedroom during his stays at the Burrow, Harry was not in the habit of knocking before entering. He'd shared a dorm room with Ron for six years and a tent with him for a year after that…privacy wasn't a luxury either one had much familiarity with. Harry, however, immediately wished he _had_ knocked, however, when he walked in to find his two best friends lying in bed together, kissing fiercely with Ron's hand under Hermione's shirt as she lay atop him.

Harry cleared his throat and the two lovebirds separated so quickly that Hermione very nearly lost a breast as Ron's hand was ripped from under her top.

"Sorry," Harry said looking down, a deep blush spreading across his cheeks, "I'll come back later."

"Nonsense, Harry," Hermione said in a too-chipper voice, trying to will her own embarrassed flush to go away as she smoothed down her shirt, "Ron and I were just discussing our Hogwarts letters and what we were going to do in the fall."

Harry cocked an eyebrow and looked at Hermione over the top of his glasses. _That_ was _discussing_ the letters? He cast a glance at Ron who stood, looking everywhere but at him and Hermione, his ears a bright crimson.

"Did you get a letter, too?" Hermione asked, returning to the giddy schoolgirl who was always so excited and interested in school matters.

"Yeah, I did, but I don't know whether I want to go back or not," Harry went back to looking at his feet. He knew the conversation that was about to follow, in which Hermione extolled the virtues of returning to Hogwarts for his Seventh Year. If he was honest, Harry never looked to the future, since he never thought he'd have one…that fighting Voldemort was his destiny, and once that was done, he probably wouldn't be alive to _need_ a future. He started scratching absentmindedly at a tender spot on his neck.

"OI!" Ron yelled, eyes blazing at he looked at Harry.

"What?" Harry replied, looking confused.

"Ron, what…?" Hermione, too, looked puzzled.

"Where'd you get that _love-bite_, mate?!" the redheaded teen exclaimed moving menacingly towards his best friend.

Harry backed up slightly, trying to think of the best way to handle the situation. He put his hands up in a defensive gesture as he saw Ron clench his fists as he continued towards him.

"Calm down, Ron," he said, "I can explain."

"Explain what?" Ginny had chosen that particular moment to show up at the door to Ron's room. She had found her Mum still asleep, an old photo album clutched in her arms. Ginny had decided to let her be.

"Come with me," Ron said gruffly, grabbing Harry's arm and leading him downstairs and out the back door.

"What was _that_ about?" Ginny asked anger starting to flare up on her freckled face. When her brother was rude to Harry it usually involved her in some way.

"The boys need to talk, I think," Hermione said diplomatically, not wanting to get involved.

"About what? _Me_?!" Ginny's temper was flaring and she was about to run downstairs and inflict some pain on her bull-headed brother, but Hermione stopped her.

"Ginny, wait," Hermione said, stepping up and putting a hand on her friend's arm, "I wanted to talk to you about something."

"What?" Ginny huffed, wondering if Hermione, too, was going to try and get in the way of Harry and her getting back together.

Hermione took a deep breath. It was obvious to Ginny that whatever she was about to say was going to be something serious. As long as it didn't involve her and Harry…

"Ginny, why on Earth would you tell Ron that I kissed Viktor Krum?" Hermione was trying not to raise her voice even though she was a bit angry with her friend for telling a lie about her that had caused so many problems between her and Ron.

"What?" Ginny was kind of surprised that Hermione had pulled her aside to talk about _this_, "I don't know…maybe because he was accusing me of being the school slut just for kissing two different boys!"

"But Ginny," Hermione began, exasperated, "You KNOW that nothing happened between Viktor and me."

"So? It got Ron off my back," the redheaded girl shrugged, "What's the big deal?"

"The _big deal_, Ginny," the frizzy-haired brunette snapped slightly, "Is that because of the lie you told him about me, Ron wound up with Lavender Brown! Months of time wasted that he and I could have been together! And the damage to our friendship…we were so close to…to…and it took FOREVER to get back to where we were and…oh, Ginny…!!"

Hermione broke into tears. Ginny, too, broke down. She and Hermione usually got on so well…like sisters…and here she was being blamed for the whole Lavender Brown fiasco. Ginny felt more than slightly put upon for being made the scapegoat for Hermione's problems with Ron, but if she was honest, she also felt guilty for telling the lie about her friend that caused her brother to cavort around with Lavender Brown for six months, instead of getting together with Hermione.

"I'm sorry for lying to Ron about you and Krum," Ginny said, wiping her eyes on her sleeve, "But you can't blame me for everything! Ron's an idiot…that's not my fault!"

"You're right…he is an idiot. But he's _my_ idiot!" Hermione laughed, drying her eyes.

The two girls hugged and laughed, and all seemed well once again.

* * *

"Bloody Hell, Harry!" Ron yelled, waving his arms around, "What the Hell do you think you're doing?!"

"Ron, I --…"

"I thought we went over this before!" Ron growled cutting across Harry, "I won't have you messing my sister around!!"

"Ron, I --…"

"Shut it!!" Ron snapped, getting in his best friend's face, "You broke her heart once, mate, I'm not gonna let you do it again!"

"Can I speak now, Ron?" Harry asked, glaring at his friend, "Or are you just going to interrupt me again?"

Ron glared angrily back at Harry. He said nothing, indicating that Harry should continue.

"You're my best mate, Ron," Harry said, not backing down, "And ordinarily I wouldn't want to piss you off, but this is none of your effing business!"

"Hey!"

"Shut it, Ron!!" Harry snapped, "You had your say. It's my turn now."

Ron's mouth open and closed angrily, making him look like a fish gasping for breath.

"I love your sister and I would never mess her around," Harry fumed at his best friend, "She's old enough to make her choices, and she chooses me. Am I so horrible a person…so horrible a friend…that you think I'm not worthy of your sister?"

Ron looked away, shoving his hands in his pockets, causing Harry's stomach to drop. He feared that he'd come to the crux of the problem…that Ron thought he wasn't good enough for Ginny.

"You're a great friend, Harry," Ron said, still not looking at him, "Real top drawer, mate."

"Then what's the problem?" Harry asked, concern and confusion showing in his green eyes, "You were okay with me dating her before."

"But you binned her, Harry," Ron reminded him, not that he needed to, "And she was devastated. I don't want to see her go through that again."

"I dumped her to keep her safe from Voldemort!" Harry snapped, "He's dead now. The war's over. Do you really begrudge Ginny and me some happiness after all we've been through?"

"I want us _all_ to be happy, Harry," Ron said, looking off into the distance, "We all deserve a little."

Ron started walking away, leaving Harry by himself in the garden with a quizzical look on his face.

"Where are you --…?"

"Never hurt her again, Harry," Ron called over his shoulder as he continued back towards the house, "She's got si--…five...older brothers who would do you an injury if you did."

* * *

"So my brother gave you your very first kiss?" Ginny asked over her cup of teas as she and Hermione sat in the kitchen, talking, "I'm really sorry."

They had moved down to the kitchen on the premise of having tea and girl talk, but the both knew it was really to remain close by should Harry or Ron…well, mostly Ron…get out of hand with their talk out in the garden.

"Watch it, Weasley," Hermione laughed, "That's my boyfriend you're talking about."

"I'll keep that in mind, Granger," the redheaded girl laughed right along with her friend, "It just doesn't seem fair that I've kissed more boys than you have."

"It's about quality, not quantity," Hermione replied with a smile, "And your brother is definitely a quality boyfriend."

"Yuck!" Ginny replied, pulling a face, "Now, Harry…_there's_ a quality guy! Mmmm!"

"Yuck!" Hermione said, imitating her friend and pulling a similar face, sticking out her tongue.

The girls broke into a fit of laughter that was only interrupted when Ron came walking in the back door.

"What're you hens clucking about?" Ron asked, moving over to stand behind Hermione, putting his hands on her shoulders.

"Just girl talk, Ronald," Hermione said, placing a hand on one of his.

"Yeah, so get lost!" Ginny added tartly.

Ron was about to make a very rude gesture to his sister involving two fingers, but stopped when he saw his mother come shuffling into the kitchen.

"What's all this then?" Molly Weasley asked as she looked around the kitchen at the three teens sitting there.

-- End Chapter 7 --

* * *

**Author's Notes:** I can't help noticing that at the end of a lot of the multi-part stories I'm reading (I'm working my way through reading all 5800+ Ron/Hermione stories on the site), the authors hold the story's progress for ransom...stating they will only post more once they hit a certain number of reviews for each chapter. Is that standard protocol here? This is my first posted fanfic, and I'm a little unsure of the accepted/expected etiquette involed in posting stories.

Regardless, whether I receive a grand amount of reviews or not, I still intend to maintain my posting schedule as best I can. One chapter a night, that's what I'm aiming for. Review if you like, but don't be afraid of me holding my story hostage in case you don't.

--BH13--


	8. Goodbye

**Author's Note:** You know how I'm always saying in my _Author's Notes_ how this story is Rated M for language and naughty stuff? Ahem Well...here we are at a chapter with **_naughty stuff_**. So, if you're offended by that sort of thing...well...you might want to either skip this chapter, or at the very least skip over the section where Ron and Hermione go to his room.

Once again, I want to thank everybody who's read this story so far (especially those of you who put it in your Favorites). Special Thanks as always goes to the people who've taken the time to Review my story -- **Edinburgh Love**, **Ann Malfoy**, **Cantletharrygo**, **CutewithAcapital-Q**, **fatyellowrat**, **Avanell**, **Dizzy0305**, **katie1985**, **Elytha**, and **Trude **-- your kind words and encouragement has assured me that I'm not wasting my time with this.

This story Rated M for language and naughty stuff...especially THIS chapter!!

**Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling owns this stuff...and I hope she doesn't mind what I have Ron and Hermione doing in his bedroom.

* * *

**"Aftermath"**

**Chapter 8 -- Goodbye**

Once Mrs. Weasley had gotten up and made her way down into the kitchen, the day started to pass by more quickly. Despite Ginny's protests and offers to handle all the kitchen duties for the day, Mrs. Weasley had dismissed her with good humor and grim determination.

"I've a family to care for, dear," she had said to Ginny as she went about preparing lunch, "I've already let them get off without breakfast; I won't force them to skip lunch, too."

Harry made his way back into the house uttering a solemn greeting to Mrs. Weasley as he took a seat at the table next to Ginny. She took his hand in hers and was amazed where there was no protest from Ron. Hermione, proud of her boyfriend for not causing a scene, followed suit, taking Ron's hand and even going so far as to rest her head on his shoulder.

Talk quickly turned to the return to Hogwarts in the fall. Ginny and Hermione were both giddy about being in the same year for once, and the prospect of sharing a dorm, although familiar – since they shared a room whenever Hermione visited the Burrow – was still exciting for them.

Molly was glad to hear that Hermione would be returning to her schooling, but was more than a little disappointed that Ron preferred to get a job instead. And when Harry revealed that he hadn't made up his mind yet, she just nodded in a motherly way and told him he had plenty of time to decide.

Lunch went by quickly, and Ginny volunteered them all to clean up afterward, so her mother could get some rest. Mrs. Weasley retired once more to her room, insisting that Ginny see to it that she was up in time to get a handle on supper. Once Mrs. Weasley was gone, the four of them made quick work of the kitchen.

When they finished, the four of them went outside to sit under the shade of a tree and enjoy the springtime weather and beauty of the early afternoon. None of them spoke, however. Harry was brooding over the letter from Hogwarts. Ginny had her mind on her mother and what she could do to help her get over Fred. Ron's somberness was due to the impending departure of Hermione, and she was quiet because she was afraid of the vastness of the job she had in front of her…searching Australia for her parents.

"I need to pack," Hermione said to no one in particular, breaking the silence. She got up and started to move towards the house, "I'll be leaving in the morning."

Ron jumped up and moved with her. These were the last hours he would have with her before she was gone for who knew how long. He didn't want to spend them sulking outside when he could be by her side, talking to her…holding her…kissing her. He didn't know how he was going to make it without her.

Ginny and Harry just sat there under the shade of the tree, too wrapped up in their own brooding to return to the passionate snogging that they'd been doing earlier in the day, prior to the post owls' arrival and the deliveries that effectively changed their lives…at least for the foreseeable future.

* * *

**(A/N: Things get naughty in this section. Read at your own risk!)**

"Blimey, love, how many clothes are you gonna need in Australia?"

Ron was sitting on Ginny's bed watching Hermione pack her bag. She'd put an Extension Charm on her shoulder bag – as she'd done to her handbag at Bill and Fleur's wedding – and could fit an unbelievable amount of stuff inside the moderately sized bag. Hermione was currently in the process of packing all of her clothing into the bag.

"I don't know how long I'm going to _be_, Ron," she huffed, getting slightly annoyed at the way he was questioning everything she put into her bag, "So I don't know how many changes of clothes I'm going to need."

She began packing her bras and knickers into the bag and Ron's eyes grew wide at the sight of her undergarments. Ron reached over and picked up a rather insubstantial pair of knickers and examined them the way his father examined Muggle artifacts.

"These look awful flimsy," he said, noticing that they consisted of only a few thin strips of cloth, "You sure these thing keep your bits in?"

"There supposed to be _sexy_," she said in an exasperated voice, grabbing them from his hand, "Not all of us look good in Chudley Cannons boxer shorts."

He blushed slightly at the thought of her seeing him in his boxers. Then the image of her _wearing_ his boxers sprung into his mind and he blushed even deeper. The picture in his head of Hermione in his Chudley Cannons boxers quickly changed to Hermione in those flimsy knickers he'd just been holding. His face went completely scarlet and he had an embarrassing bulge trying its best to burst through his jeans.

"Ron? Ron, are you okay?" Hermione had stopped packing when Ron had gotten strangely quiet, and now the look on his face had her worried.

Suddenly, in his mind, Hermione was taking down the flimsy knickers, revealing the luscious bits of woman he'd caught sight of only briefly as they were frantically trying to make their escape from Ginny's bedroom earlier. His mouth gaped open at the feminine smoothness that _was_ Hermione's naked body; the bulge in his pants throbbing to twice its size.

"RON!!"

He finally snapped out of his reverie and looked up at Hermione, forcing his mind to clear of the naughty images of her he'd been enjoying. "Huh? What, 'Mione?"

"What's the matter with you, Ron?" she snapped, her patience wearing wafer-thin, "I've been talking to you and you've just been sitting there like a cabbage!"

"Sorry, love," he said, trying to think of something that would make the embarrassing bulge in his pants go away, "I was…distracted."

"Distracted by what?" she asked, concerned, "And you're looking flushed. Are you sure you're alright?"

He sighed and hung his head. He was about to make up a story about getting distracted by one of the knickknacks on Ginny's dresser, but he suddenly flashed back to the last time he and Hermione were in this room…their _no secrets_ conversation.

"'Mione…love…" he said, looking up at her, his face still flushed with embarrassment, "I was distracted by your…flimsy knickers. Well, at first, I was imagining you wearing my Cannons boxer. Then it was you in your knickers. And then, finally, it was you…starkers."

Hermione put her hand over her mouth feigning shock. In truth, however, she was hiding a smile. Prior to getting together, had he told her that he was imagining her in a state of undress (he _never _would have told her that) she would have been scandalized and a grand row would ensue that might end with him on the receiving end of a nasty hex. Now, however, that they were a couple, she couldn't help feeling that he was just so bloody cute!

"Thank you for telling me the truth, Ron," she said, trying not to laugh, "But maybe you shouldn't think those thoughts anymore. They seem to have caused an…_uprising_…in your jeans."

He blushed so badly that his face matched his jumper. Ron shoved his hands over the very prominent bulge and tried to hide it.

"Merlin's manky Y-fronts, 'Mione, don't take the mickey out of me now!" he exclaimed, burying his face in his hands, "This is embarrassing enough without you teasing me about it."

Hermione stopped laughing, sitting down next to him, putting her hand on his leg in a comforting gesture. "Ron, I'm sorry. I shouldn't make fun. It must be very hard…err…_difficult_…to be a guy when it does _that_."

"You've no idea, love," he said with a slight squeak in his voice.

Hermione looked him over, head-to-toe; she loved him so much and she would do anything for him because he loved her, too. They were finally a couple, finally together, and here she was about to rip them apart for who knows how long. She wanted to give him something to remember her by...a memory to keep him warm at night when she was gone.

"Ronald," she said in that husky, sexy voice that always sent tingles through his body, "I want to do something for you."

He looked up at her, his body on fire as she said his name _that way_. "'Mione, what --…?"

She put a finger to his lips to quiet him. "Let's go to your room," she said reaching down and taking something out of her bag before reaching down to take his hand, "I don't want a repeat of what happened this morning."

Ron took her hand and stood, awkwardly, giving her a quizzical look. He didn't know what she had in mind, but wasn't about to question her. The look on her face told him that now was not the time to ask questions.

Wands in hand, Ron and Hermione turned around on the spots where they stood and with a pair of loud _cracks_, the young couple Disapparated out of Ginny's room, only to Apparate into the middle of Ron's room (_crack, crack_) an instant later.

"God bless Apparition," Ron sighed as he flopped down onto his bed. His _upstanding problem_ was still prevalent, "I don't think I could walk properly right now."

Hermione moved over to stand in front of him. She reached down and gently caressed his cheek, causing him to look up at her. When their eyes met, she trembled. His blue eyes always did this to her. Always made her body tingle, made her knees weak. God he was beautiful.

"Ron…do you trust me?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"With my life, 'Mione," he said, meaning every word he said. She smiled as he said it, and her smile warmed him as it always did.

"Close your eyes," she said in a husky voice that caused his erection to throb even harder. He did as he was told, gulping down the lump forming in his throat. "Good boy."

Ron stifled a groan. Hermione had never acted like this before…and it was driving him crazy. His eyes were screwed tightly shut, and he could hear her step away from him only to hear the soft sound of something hitting the floor. He jumped as her hand once again touched his cheek after nearly a minute, his heart racing as the urge to open his eyes was overwhelming.

"Ron, you know that I love you, yes?" Hermione cooed, moving her fingers up to his hair, twirling them in the fiery red locks that were getting slightly shaggy.

"Yes," Ron croaked. His throat was dry and he swallowed desperately trying to regain his voice.

"Do you know that I would do _anything_ for the man that I love?" she had moved close enough to whisper in his ear.

"Y-yes," he practically whimpered. She was making him crazy and he thought sure that his embarrassing _uprising_ wouldn't be a problem much longer because what she was doing to him right now had him nearly ready to pop. "'Mione…please…!"

"Hush, Ronald," she said, putting a finger against his lips, "Are you ready?"

"Yes!"

"Okay, Ronald," she said in her huskiest voice, doing all she could to sound sexy, "Open your eyes."

**(A/N: Sorry to interrupt, but I feel it's my duty to give one final warning. Here comes the NAUGHTY!)**

Ron did as he was told, and the shock of what he saw standing before him nearly gave him a heart attack. Hermione stood in front of him with her hands on her hips in a jaunty pose; but it wasn't the pose that had him completely stunned, it was the fact that she was wearing nothing except those flimsy knickers he'd asked her about before.

His mouth gaped open and his eyes were wide as saucers. Ron was completely and totally gobsmacked and he almost appeared to be catatonic. His eyes were raking over Hermione's gorgeous body, taking in every bit of her as if trying to memorize every single inch of her smooth, creamy flesh.

"'Mione…!" Ron gasped when finally his voice returned to him, "'Mione, you're starkers!"

"Not completely," Hermione said, hooking a thumb into the waistband of her knickers. She was starting to get a little self-conscious from the way he was gawking at her. She moved an arm up to cover her naked breasts as her face went bright red. "Uhm…perhaps this isn't a good idea. I'm sorry, Ron."

She turned away from him and started to gather up her clothes, wanting to bolt from the room, but refusing to do so, dressed only in her "flimsy knickers", as Ron had called them. Before she could take two steps away from him, however, Ron grabbed her arm causing Hermione to turn back to him.

"Please, don't…" Ron pleaded, looking up at her.

Hermione's heart thudded loudly in her chest, her stomach doing cartwheels as her whole body tingled. She dropped her arm, letting him see her breasts again, but his eyes never left hers. The love between the two of them was so strong, so powerful that it made her knees weak. Her earlier self-consciousness was forgotten, and her desire to go through with her plan was roaring back to life.

"I want to do something for you, Ron," she said, once more using her husky voice, "Something I hope you won't _ever_ forget…something to remember me by until I come home to you."

"You already have," he said with a soft smile. He cast a glance down her body, drinking in the beauty of her plump pink-capped breasts, the smoothness and curves of her delicious form. "You're the first woman I've seen…like this."

She stepped up to him and took his face in her hands, looking deeply into his eyes.

"If I have my way, Ronald Weasley, I'll be the _only_ woman you ever see _like this_."

He smiled up at her, happily, at the idea of this woman being his one and only.

"I can live with that," he said, giving her that lopsided smile that drove her crazy with need.

"And," she said huskily, her eyes twinkling naughtily, "I'd better be the only one who does _this_ to you!"

Hermione dropped to her knees between Ron's legs and began undoing his jeans. He could only look down at her with eyes wide open, unbelieving what he was seeing. His mouth opened and closed several times as the woman he loved got his jeans open and then reached inside to fish around for the source of his pants' unceremonious tenting.

"'M-M-Mione!" he squeaked as she found what she was looking for and released it from the cramped confines of his jeans, "W-W-What're you --…?"

"Hush, Ronald," she said softly as her hand moved up and down his length, "This is my first time doing this, and I'm trying to concentrate. You _know_ how I like to do lots and lots of research on a new subject."

"Bloody Hell, that's amazing, 'Mione!" he gasped, obviously enjoying her _research_.

"Language, Ronald," she quipped, engaging both her hands at the same time, showing that she was, indeed, a quick study.

"Fucking brilliant!!" he groaned as his enjoyment reached a fever pitch.

She giggled at his foul mouth. Hermione knew he couldn't control himself when his passions got the better of him…and at a time like this, when she was doing _this_ to him, his passions _better_ have the better of him!

After a few short minutes of Hermione's handiwork, Ron was reduced to unintelligible grunts, moans, and groans. As he reached his crescendo – all over her heaving breasts – she thought she heard Ron say _"I love you, Hermione,"_ but it had run all together in a great heaving cry of passion and sounded more like _"Iluhyoomnee"_.

She was a bit surprised at the conclusion of her little treat for him. Not because of how quickly it was over, she could tell it would be by how incredibly _tense_ he was; what had her surprised was how natural it had all felt…doing this for Ron, letting him see her like this, making him feel good, and not freaking out when she wound up _wearing_ the _fruits_ of her labor.

Hermione took out her wand and with a quick Scourgify charm had herself and Ron cleaned up and his _friend_ who was no longer quite so _tense_ tucked back inside his jeans.

"Well, _Professor_ Weasley," she teased, looking up at him coyly, acting sweet and innocent, despite the fact that she was still dressed in nothing but her _flimsy knickers_, "How did I do in this _new subject_?"

"Bloody brilliant!" he gasped, falling back on the bed trying to catch his breath.

"Language, Ronald!!"

**(A/N: Okay...the naughty is over...anyone who skipped the naughty can start reading again.)**

* * *

It was early, too early to be up saying goodbye to your girlfriend for who knew how long. Too early to be fighting back tears, trying to be the big brave man who wasn't supposed to get all weepy when his heart was breaking. Too effing early.

Ron slowly trudged down the stairs to the ground floor of the Burrow. Hermione was already down there, talking to his father, getting everything square in her head before leaving. She loved to have all her ducks in a row, leaving not even the smallest detail to chance.

Ron moved into the kitchen where his girlfriend and his father sat discussing the day's plans. He sat down next to Hermione and placed his hand over hers. She quickly laced her fingers between his, not missing a beat as she continued talking with Mr. Weasley.

"The Ministry has everything worked out, dear girl, so there's nothing to worry about."

"I can't thank you enough, Mr. Weasley," Hermione replied, overjoyed at the prospect of finding her parents, but anxious and nervous over the thought of doing it all on her own. In the last seven years, everything she did of any importance, she had always done with Ron and Harry by her side.

"Well…we'll be leaving in a few minutes, so I'll leave you two to say your goodbyes," Mr. Weasley said, smiling at the two teens…adults by the measure of wizarding _and_ Muggle society…sitting before him. He got up and gave his son a reassuring pat on the shoulder as he walked past him to check on his wife once more before leaving for work.

Once they were alone, the young couple was thrust into an awkward silence. Hermione didn't know what she could say to Ron that would make him feel better about her leaving, and Ron didn't know what he could say that wouldn't make him sound like a selfish prat. Finally, it was Ron who gave in and spoke.

"I hate that you're leaving," he said, looking away from her.

"I know," she replied softly, putting her head on his shoulder, "I promise I won't be gone long."

"I feel like…like this is my penance for leaving you and Harry during the Horcrux hunt," he said, "Because I abandoned you like that, the universe is making me go through what you went through."

"I'm not abandoning you, Ron," she said, exasperated, pulling back and looking at him with unbelieving eyes, "I _will_ be back. I swear!"

"Doesn't make saying goodbye any easier," he told her, turning to look her in the eye. She could see the tears swimming at the corners of his blue eyes, "Doesn't make it hurt less to not have you by my side."

"I know, Ron, I know," she was trying to hold back her own tears, but she couldn't, "I promise. I _swear_ to you, Ron…I will be back as soon as possible!"

He took her in his arms and they held each other tight, not wanting to let go. They cried into each other for what seemed like an eternity, but could have only been a couple of minutes at most. The sound of Mr. Weasley clearing his throat behind them caused the young couple to reluctantly split apart.

"I'm sorry, but it's time, Hermione, dear," Arthur Weasley said, giving his son an apologetic look as he saw the anguish in his youngest son's eyes, "We must be off. The Ministry has set up a Floo connection to the Australian Ministry for only a brief window."

"I'm coming, Mr. Weasley," Hermione said softly, wiping her eyes.

Arthur and Hermione made their way out the back door into the garden and were about to Disapparate to Ministry Headquarters, when Ron rushed outside and grabbed Hermione for one last kiss. Everything he was, he put into that kiss…all his love for Hermione, and she returned it in kind.

"Ronald!" his father snapped, trying not to get annoyed considering the circumstances, but being forced to rush thanks to a tight schedule.

"I love you, 'Mione," Ron said as they broke apart.

"I love you, too, Ron," Hermione replied.

And just like that, with the sound of two loud _cracks_, Hermione and Mr. Weasley were gone. It was then that Ron's legs gave out and he crashed to the ground, crying out his anguish like a wee little baby.

**-- End Chapter 8 --**

* * *

**Author's End Notes:** I felt kind of awkward posting this chapter...not sure how you readers would respond. I'm hoping I didn't lose anybody because of the naughty in this chapter. I humbly apologize to anyone who was offended because of the presence of a (rather downplayed) sex scene or because of perceived out-of-character actions by any of J.K. Rowling's creations.

Chapter 9 will be up early tomorrow (Saturday) since I won't be home in the evening (it's my bi-weekly Gaming Night).

I hope everyone who's been sticking with this story is still enjoying reading it (assuming you enjoyed it at all in the first place) at least as much as I've enjoyed writing it.

--BH13--


	9. Those Left Behind

**Author's Notes: **Okay, so the naughtiness of Chapter 8 is over, and I hope too many people didn't abandon ship because of it. Now let's move onto Chapter 9.

Thanks once again to everyone who stuck with me and is still reading and...hopefully...enjoying this story. Special thanks to everyone who has ever taken the time to send a review (**Edinburgh Love**, **Ann Malfoy**, **Cantletharrygo**, **CutewithAcapital-Q**, **fatyellowrat**, **Avanell**, **Dizzy0305**, **katie1985**, **Elytha**, and **Trude**), epsecially those who've sent me a review to assure me they're still with me despite the naughty in Chapter 8...you people know who you are!

**Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling owns this stuff.

**"Aftermath"**

**Chapter 9 -- Those Left Behind**

"George! George, wake up!"

Ron stood over his brother, shaking his shoulders, trying to wake him up. He'd almost tripped over the half-dozen empty Firewhiskey bottles littering the floor when he came in, and he could only hope that George hadn't killed them all in one night.

"Bugger off, Ron," George groaned, rolling over and burying his face in his pillow.

"George, c'mon...please," Ron implored, shaking him harder, "Wake up. I need to talk to you."

"Sod off!" the one-eared Weasley pulled the blanket over his head, wishing his brother would just go away.

"George…I need your help!" Ron whined finally.

The lone remaining Weasley twin pulled the blanket down and cast a look at him with a single open eye. His little brother had such a pathetic look on his face that George nearly gave in. He almost got out of bed, but then he cast a glance across the room at the emptiness of Fred's bed and then drew his blanket back over his head.

"Piss off, Ron!"

Ron gave a disappointed sigh and sank to the floor next to George's bed. He wasn't ready to give up on this…not yet. He was on a mission, and he wasn't going to rest until he succeeded.

"I want to ask Hermione to marry me," Ron sighed, closing his eyes and leaning back against George's nightstand.

George once again brought down the blanket from over his head; this time he opened both eyes, giving Ron a dumbfounded look. "Ickle Ronniekins is going to propose to his ickle girlfriend?" George's eyes lit with mischief and he looked back to Fred's empty bed…the light disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.

The twins would have given Ron no end of grief with this particular tidbit of information. Teasing him was their forte. Or, rather, it had been. Now there was no _them_, no _they_, there was only _him_…George.

_"Give Ronnie a break, George."_ George's inner monologue sounded remarkably like Fred. Of course, it would…they were twins, so their voices were eerily similar.

"And what does this have to do with me?" George asked, sitting up and stretching. His head throbbed and he was starting to regret the Firewhiskey from last night…and the night before…and the night before. "Need me to give you…"

_"Some bedroom advice?"_

Ron looked at him questioningly, waiting for George to finish what he was saying. George and Fred were always finishing each other's sentences, and it would take some time before George would be able to get to used not having his twin around to complete him. Especially if his inner monologue…sounding just like Fred…was going to start completing his sentences (albeit, in his head).

"George, I don't need you to _give_ me anything," Ron replied when it didn't seem like his brother was about to finish his thought anytime soon, "Well…actually, I do need you to give me something."

"Bedroom advice it is, then," George smiled.

_"Always remember to find…"_

"The little man in the boat," George said, cryptically, finishing his inner monologue's thought.

_"Hermione will thank you for it…"_

"And you'll thank _us_ for it!" George had a Cheshire cat grin on his face, expecting to see his little brother looking very embarrassed. Instead, Ron just looked confused. His brother was rambling, speaking in bits and pieces of sentences…it worried Ron.

"I need a _job_, George," Ron finally revealed when he came to the conclusion that George must still be a little pissed from all the Firewhiskey, "I was thinking you could re-open the shop and I could come to work for you."

George's face fell. The shop…Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. He looked by over at the empty bed.

"I can't re-open the shop, Ron," George said dejectedly, being brought back to the cold reality where his brother, best friend, and partner was dead, "But I'll give you some money, how 'bout that?"

"I don't want charity, George," Ron grumbled. Ron was proud. He hated being poor, but he hated to accept handouts from people around him who were better off than he was even more, "Forget it."

Ron got up and left the room before George could say another word. He was really hoping that his idea would work, and it would kill two birds with one stone. It would get him some money so he could buy Hermione a ring, while getting George out of his depression and back out into the world…living his life instead of drinking himself to death locked away in his childhood bedroom. Now, however, he was back to square one.

George watched Ron leave, feeling even worse now than he had when Ron reminded him about the shop. He wanted to help his brother, Merlin knows proposing to Hermione was important to him and he'd want to do it right, but going back to the shop…_their_ shop...George trembled in fear at the very thought of that. Why couldn't he just take the bloody handout?

_"Because he's a proud Weasley man!"_

George nodded, as if he was actually having a conversation with his brother. Lucky for him, no one was around to notice, or he'd have been rushed off to St. Mungo's loony ward to share a room with Gilderoy Lockhart.

"We're all proud Weasley men," George replied to the voice in his head, "But Ron's just stubborn."

_"That's our ickle Ronniekins."_

"Ickle Ronniekins wants to marry Hermione," George laughed; not a mean laugh or a laugh at Ron's expense, but a happy laugh, a laugh of joy at his brother finding the love of his life.

_"We'll have to throw Ronniekins a Stag party…"_

"With lots of Firewhiskey…"

_"And loose women! Veela women!!"_

"Smashing idea, Fred!"

_"Why thank you, George!"_

"Think nothing of it."

_"Not at all."_

George broke out in loud peals of laughter, right alongside the voice in his head. Mischievous laughter; the sort of laughter that told you that someone was up to no good. Of course, being that he was alone in his room having a conversation with the voice in his head, the laughter only served to make George look like he was barking mad.

* * *

Ron stomped down the stairs, disappointed that his plan to get George motivated while earning enough money to buy Hermione a ring before she went back to Hogwarts had failed…miserably. Worse, George was acting strange. Ron wondered if, perhaps, all that Firewhiskey had rotted his brother's brain.

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, Ron cast a glance into the kitchen and saw his mother sitting at the table, flipping through an old photo album. He moved into the room and up behind his mother, leaning down to give her a hug.

"'Morning, Mum," he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek, "How are you feeling today?"

This may have seemed a little out of character for Ron, seeing as he's only got the emotional range of a teaspoon and all, but there was no questioning his love for his mother, and her well-being was important. _Family_ was important to Ron, and he was not about to ignore their pain.

"I'm tired, dear," she croaked. His mother's usually chipper voice (when she wasn't scolding them for something they'd said or done that they shouldn't have) was gone, replaced by a strained, hoarse whisper.

"Maybe I should make you some tea and send you back to bed," Ron suggested, trying to be helpful.

"Oh, Ronald, dear," she sighed, "I feel like all I've done is lain in bed since…well, _since_." She didn't want to say _"Since Fred's funeral", _but they both knew that's what she meant. "I don't think I can take another day of that."

"You deserve your rest, Mum," Ron countered, moving over to the stove and starting a pot of tea, "You shouldn't have to spend your days tending to the lot of us."

"Tut-tut, Ronald," she chided him, "It's a mother's prerogative to look after her babies…even the ones she didn't give birth to."

Ron knew she meant Harry and Hermione, both of whom were so much a part of the Weasley family that they may as well have had red hair and freckles.

"Did Hermione get off all right?" she asked, flipping absentmindedly through the photo album, "I really should've gotten up to see her off. Your father insisted that I stay in bed."

"He's just looking out for you, Mum," Ron said making two cups of tea and then joining his mother, "We all love you so much and just want…"

Ron trailed off after setting the cup of tea in front of his mother because of the angry look she was giving him. His hand started to shake as he set his own teacup down.

"Ronald Weasley, I will have you know that I am not some…some…bloody porcelain doll that needs to be treated delicately!" Molly's ire was legendary, but Ron had never seen her swear before. He was actually scared. "I went through labor six times, and one of those was with twins!! And now you lot think I need to be a useless lay-about just because…because…oh, Ronald…!"

Ron was up out of his chair and around the table in an instant, kneeling on the floor next to his mother's chair and wrapping his arms tightly around her, taking her into the biggest hug he'd ever given her before. She threw her arms around her youngest son and buried her face in his shoulder and broke down, crying woefully into her son's maroon jumper.

He patted her back and rocked back and forth, trying to be as comforting to her as possible. Ron wasn't used to this…being the shoulder for his mother to cry on. She had always been the rock for the Weasley family. His heart was breaking as his mother wailed in mourning of her dead son.

_"Fucking Voldemort and his bloody Death Eaters!"_ Ron cursed in his head, _"If the great slimy bastard wasn't dead already, I'd bloody kill him myself!!"_

Ron continued to comfort his mother for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Molly pulled back from him and gave him a watery smile, reaching up to brush the hair out of her son's eyes and caress his cheek.

"You're a good boy, Ronald," she sniffed, her eyes red from crying, "Wanting to take care of your old wreck of a mother."

"You're no wreck, Mum," he replied with a gentle grin.

"Oh…but you agree that I am old, then?" she snapped playfully, smacking him lightly on the arm.

Ron didn't know what to say to that. His mouth gaped open and closed like a fish, his ears turning bright pink. Finally, Molly started to laugh lightly, smiling more brightly at him.

"Even my own Mum takes the mickey out of me," he groaned, but returned her smile readily.

"Come now, dear, let's finish our tea," Molly said, patting his hand tenderly, "I think it's time we had a talk about Hermione."

-- End Chapter 9 --

**Author's End Notes:** That chapter seemed short to me as I was just re-reading it. And just now looking at the word counter in the Documents Manager, I see that it was indeed my shortest chapter to date. Bummer. :-( I don't like posting short chapters. Rest assured, the next chapter is longer...like, twice as long! I'll post it tomorrow...see you then!

--BH13--


	10. Tempers Flare

**Author's Notes:** I'm sorry Chapter 9 as so short...it was my shortest chapter to date, and I feel bad about that. I, personally, don't like reading short chapters, especially if I know I have to wait for the next one...so I apologize to anyone who was disappointed by the shortness of Chapter 9. On the bright side, this chapter is twice as long as last chapter, so hopefully that will make up for it.

As always, thanks to everyone who's been faithfully reading the story, and an extra special thanks to everyone who's posted a Review (**Edinburgh Love**, **Ann Malfoy**, **Cantletharrygo**, **CutewithAcapital-Q**, **fatyellowrat**, **Avanell**, **Dizzy0305**, **katie1985**, **Elytha**, **Trude**, **mugglemama**, and **emmy1124**).

This story is rated M for language and naughty stuff.

**Disclaimer:** This stuff belongs to J.K. Rowling.

* * *

**"Aftermath"**

**Chapter 10 -- Tempers Flare**

Ginny Weasley was pissed. Not pissed drunk, although there were nights…secretly…in the Gryffindor girls' dorm at Hogwarts that she had partaken of way too much Firewhiskey that one of the girls had sneaked in. No, Ginny was pissed _off_! Angry beyond the capability for rational thought; and the subject of her anger…one Harry Potter…would do well to steer clear of her, lest he wind up a bloke with his bits hexed off.

Ever since the post owls arrived with letters from Hogwarts, Harry had been quiet, and brooding, and a total pain in the arse. The fun they were having under the beech tree next to the pond was completely forgotten as his mind was occupied by thoughts of what his future might hold. He hadn't kissed her, hugged her, or even held her hand since then and Ginny was furious.

She'd gone downstairs, intent on heading out into the garden to do some flying on her broom in the hidden grove to get rid of some of her anger and frustration. She reached the bottom of the steps just in time to hear her mother say that she and Ron needed to talk about Hermione.

All of a sudden, Ginny's anger and frustration and her hatred of Harry Potter were forgotten as she found herself in the position to eavesdrop on some very juicy information about her brother and his girlfriend. She quickly and quietly moved up a couple of steps and sat down, careful not to let Ron or her mum see her.

"W-what about Hermione?" Ron asked nervously as he took a seat across from his mother and nervously sipped his tea.

"You know, Ron dear, we all positively _love_ Hermione," Molly gushed, reaching a hand across the table to pat Ron's hand as he tapped his fingers nervously, "She's like a second daughter to me."

Ron nodded, eyes wide as he watched his mother's face for some sign of what she was getting at.

"I've seen the way you look at her, Ron," Mrs. Weasley said with a slight smile, "You're madly in love with her. Am I right?"

Ron gulped, but nodded nervously. His mouth was too dry for him to speak, so he took another sip of tea.

"Have you told her?"

"Y-yes, Mum," Ron croaked, his throat feeling very tight at the moment, "Y-yesterday."

"That's wonderful, dear. It's about time the two of you stopped dancing around your feelings for one another."

From her spot on the steps, Ginny couldn't help but agree. Ron and Hermione had been in love for a long time now, but were too bloody stubborn to admit their feelings for one another. She couldn't help but wonder, though, where her mother was going with this line of questioning.

"Don't you think going back to school for a final year together would be a wonderful experience for you and Hermione?"

And there it was…a sneak attack! The talk wasn't so much about Ron and Hermione's feelings for one another as it was an attempt to talk Ron into going back to school, using Hermione's presence there as a temptation to lure him in.

"Mum, I'm not going back," Ron groaned, sick of having this conversation already. He'd been over this with his mother _and_ Hermione yesterday and there was just no changing his mind. "I need to get a job, Mum. I need the money!"

"Ronald, money isn't everything," Molly said, clucking her tongue at him, "Why are you in such a hurry to get out into the world and get a job? Why not enjoy one last year as a child?"

He felt bad for his mum…he really did. She was seeing him as her baby boy and wanted to hold onto that image of him even if it was for just one more year. Unfortunately, Ron wasn't a baby…or even a boy anymore. He was a man, and he saw it as his responsibility…as a man…to prepare for the life he wanted to have with the woman he loved.

"Mum, I'm sorry. I can't go back to Hogwarts," he said, his blue eyes imploring her to understand, "I need to get a job right away, so by the time Hermione's ready to leave for school, I can buy a ring and propose to her!"

* * *

Harry was lying peacefully in the camp bed in Ron's attic bedroom. He'd been awake for a little while now, but he hadn't gotten up…didn't want to face the world just yet. He had just survived the most difficult year of his life, and before he'd even had a chance to rest and recover from the scars of war, he was expected once again to make a life-changing decision…to decide his future.

For well more than a year, Harry didn't know if he was even going to _have_ a future, and now he had to decide overnight (well, it felt like overnight, although he had until August) what it was that he was going to do.

Go back to Hogwarts to make up his seventh and final year? Hogwarts without Professor Dumbledore would be a completely alien place to him; he doubted that it would feel like home to him as it had since he was eleven years old. It would seem an empty shell of its former glory.

Take the N.E.W.T.s without going back to school? The letter said special allowances would be made for the year he was off chasing Horcruxes. He remembered his O.W.L. exams, and how stressful they were after a year of preparing for them; to take N.E.W.T. level exams _without_ proper preparation seemed like a crazy idea.

His final option was to take the "practical experience" he'd earned during the yearlong Horcrux hunt and get a job right away; but to do what? Join the Ministry? Be an Auror? He wasn't sure right now that the idea of chasing down dark wizards appealed to him after all he'd been through. All he did know was that he didn't want to decide right now.

He rolled over and faced the wall. There was one other option. He could do _nothing_. There were enough galleons in his Gringott's vault from his inheritances (from his parents and Sirius) that he would, literally, never have to work a day in his life. He could be a man of leisure, living in a manor house somewhere doing nothing, accomplishing nothing, all day, every day, for the rest of his life. Harry sighed. That idea, too, was unappealing.

The only thing Harry _was_ sure of was that he was in love with Ginny, and he wanted to be with her.

"Harry!!"

The object of Harry's affection came bursting through the door to Ron's bedroom screeching his name at the top of her lungs as she threw herself across the room at him. He had just enough time to roll over to face in her direction when she landed on top of him on the camp bed…causing it to creak and groan warningly.

"Harry, you're not going to believe it!!" Ginny gasped, grabbing him by the shirt and shaking him roughly.

"What? What Ginny? What the Hell are you on about?!" he snapped, looking angry.

Ginny looked down at her boyfriend with a pained expression on her face. She knew he was being a moody git right now, but she hadn't expected him to yell at her. The fiery redhead's hurt expression soon turned into an angry one, however, and she let go of his shirt and punched him in the stomach, causing Harry to double up in pain.

"What was _that_ for?" he yelled, holding his stomach, grateful she hadn't punched him six inches lower.

"For you being such a bloody tit-head!" she screamed getting off of him and moving across the room towards the door, "You probably don't even care that your two best friends are getting married!"

"What?!" Harry sat up quickly, gaping at her unbelievingly.

"That's right," Ginny said tartly, "I overheard Ron talking to Mum. That's why he's in a hurry to get a job instead of going back to Hogwarts. He needs to make enough money to buy a ring for Hermione before she leaves for school."

"I...I don't believe it," Harry gasped. Part of him was happy that his two best friends would be getting together and starting a life together, but there was also part of him that was jealous. Ron _obviously_ knew what he wanted out of his life, and while Harry knew that he, too, wanted to get married (to _Ginny_), he had no sort of timetable in mind. "What did your Mum say to that?"

Ginny blushed, her angry face softening quickly, "I don't know. As soon as I heard what Ron wanted to do, I ran up here to tell you. Isn't this just incredible news?"

Ginny was obviously monumentally happy for her brother and her very best girlfriend. However, it didn't seem as though Harry shared her sentiment. Harry sat there on his camp bed, looking down at his feet.

"Yeah…incredible," he mumbled.

"What the _Hell_ crawled up _your_ arse, Harry Potter?!" Ginny screamed storming back over to him, her Weasley anger getting up again to the point where she wanted to slap him, "How can you not be happy for your two best friends?!"

"I am, alright?!" Harry yelled back, jumping to his feet and getting in Ginny's face. It looked for all the world that the two of them were going to come to blows, "But I'm also bloody jealous, okay?!"

Ginny was gobsmacked. Her mouth gaped open and her hands dropped ineffectually to her sides.

"H-how…? How can you be _jealous_, Harry?" she backed up and dropped heavily onto Ron's bed, so confused by Harry's remark that it was if someone hit her with a Confundus charm. Ginny could only imagine one reason why Harry would be jealous of Ron asking Hermione to marry him, "Y-you're not in love with _Hermione_ are you?"

* * *

George was in the process of going over a list of things to do in order to throw a real ripper of a Stag party for Ron. The oddest part of it was that he was going over the list with the voice in his head; the voice that, for George, was his brother Fred. The list making, however, was halted by the yelling upstairs coming from Ron's room.

"Someone's having a right tossing good row up in Ronnie's room."

_"Perhaps we should go and investigate, George."_

"Could be interesting, Fred."

_"Might be job for the Extendable Ears, George."_

"Brilliant, Fred!"

George moved over to his bedroom door and was about to head out into the hall, but retreated back inside his room when he noticed Ron bounding up the stairs. Once his younger brother was out of sight, George stepped back out into the hallway and used his wand to Levitate the business end of the Extendable Ear into position outside of Ron's door. A grin spread across his face as soon as he heard Ron's loud mouth bringing the yelling upstairs to an end.

"What the bloody Hell are you two yelling about up here?!"

* * *

"What?! Of course I'm not in love with Hermione, Ginny. Haven't you noticed that I'm arse-over-tit in love with _you_?!" Harry yelled, hurt that his girlfriend…the girl he'd been mad about for the last two years…would doubt his love for her.

"Well, Harry, if you're in love with _me_," Ginny yelled, going spare once more, "Why the Hell are you jealous of Ron?!"

"Because Ron at least knows what the Hell he wants out of life," he explained softly, sitting back down on his camp bed, "Everyone's expecting me to figure out what the Hell I want to do with my future, and I just don't know _what_ I want…except that I want _you_."

Harry looked up at her, hoping that last comment would at least calm her wrath a little. It worked. Ginny blushed and smiled at him, getting up from Ron's bed and sitting next to him, holding his hand.

"Harry, I know the _future_ is a scary concept," Ginny said, patting his hand tenderly, "But we _all _have to think about it. Don't you think me and Hermione are going through the same thing?"

"You two are going back to Hogwarts, so you have another year before you have to decide. It feels like I only have until August," he rested his head on her shoulder, sighing plaintively, "It's like…even after all I've done…battling Voldemort all these years, hunting the Horcruxes, and _finally_ putting an end to him…people are still expecting me to do these _amazing_ things. I just want to take a break now. Don't I deserve a break?"

"Harry," she sighed, taking his hands into his, "Of course you deserve a break. You _saved_ the entire _world_. Because of _you_, we all have a chance to _have_ a future now; even you. If you want to go on to do _more_ amazing things, do it. I'll be by your side the whole time. If you want to go on to do _nothing_ for the rest of your life, do _that_. I'll _still_ be by your side."

"That's just it, Gin," Harry sighed, "All my life, between being the Dursleys' _prisoner_ for ten years and then having a target on my back during my entire time at Hogwarts it didn't feel like there'd _be_ a future for me. And now…so soon after the war is over…I'm expected to decide what my whole life is going to be."

"Well, I guess that's part of being an adult, Harry," Ginny sighed, putting her arms around her boyfriend and kissing the top of his head, "What you've been through…no one should have to go through in seventeen _lifetimes_, let alone seventeen _years_. Whatever you wind up doing with your life, though, I'll be there with you…for as long as you want me."

"I'm going to want you with me _forever_," Harry said, looking up at her, his eyes confessing his undying devotion to her.

They kissed…tenderly, lovingly, romantically. It was a kiss of promise…of things to come…of a life…a future…spent together…until the end of time. Soon the kiss became one of passion, of hunger, of lust and desire. It, too, was a kiss of promise...of things to come...of two people becoming of one body as they allowed their passion to overtake them. It was a kiss that was rudely interrupted by Ginny's brother bursting through the door yelling his head off.

* * *

As Ron was finishing up with his mother in the kitchen, it became painfully obvious that someone was getting into a major argument somewhere upstairs, and judging by the high-pitched screams, one of the participants was definitely Ginny. He glanced at his mother and she looked rather wrung out. She sighed heavily and got up from the table.

"Ronald, dear, could you please go and handle _that_?" Mrs. Weasley asked sadly, pointing up at the ceiling, "I just don't have it in me right now. I…I think I'm going to catch some fresh air before I start preparing lunch."

"Right away, Mum," Ron said, quickly getting up and planting a kiss on her cheek as he passed her.

Ron thundered up the stairs, all the way to the attic where his room was. He was too intent on the fight in his room to notice George lurking in the doorway of his own room, up to no good. Ron knew it _had_ to be Ginny and Harry going at it up here, he just didn't realize that the yelling had stopped and they were _going at it_ in a different way now.

"What the bloody Hell are you two yelling about up here?!" Ron burst through his bedroom door yelling his head off at the young couple sitting across the room on the camp bed…where Harry currently had his hand up the front of Ginny's shirt as they kissed passionately. "Oi!!" Ron yelled angrily trying to get their attention, "What the bloody _FUCK_ are you doing Potter?! I said you could date her...not molest her!"

Harry and Ginny shot apart as Ron thundered into the room. Both them were blushing furiously, looking guiltily at Ron. Ginny had to readjust her shirt, since Harry had nearly ripped it off of her when he hurriedly removed his hand from her breast…for the second time in as many days.

Ron looked angrily back-and-forth between his sister and his best friend; his jaw clenched and his fists balled up, looking for all the world as though her were ready to kill the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Potter…!" Ron growled menacingly as he stepped towards Harry, shaking with fury. Harry began crawling up onto the camp bed, moving into the corner against the wall, trying to escape his best mate's wrath.

Ron's advance on Harry was halted completely, however, when Ginny launched herself off the bed, throwing her arms around her brother's neck and pulling him into a warm and loving embrace.

"Oh, Ron, I'm so happy for you!" Ginny exclaimed, hugging him tight, "I can't wait to see the look on Hermione's face!"

"What the bloody Hell are you on about, Ginny?" Ron asked, dumbfounded, when he finally managed to extricate himself from his sister's arms.

Ginny backed away, looking embarrassed. She smiled shyly at her brother before explaining herself.

"I'm sorry, Ron," she said, looking down at the floor momentarily, afraid her brother would get mad at her, "I overheard you and Mum talking. I know you're going to ask Hermione to marry you."

"You…you know?" Ron was taken aback by Ginny's revelation. His earlier anger had dissipated, and he ran his hands through his hair nervously. He plopped down onto his bed, glancing over at Harry who was still huddled in the corner like a frightened child, "You _both_ know?"

"Yeah…congratulations, mate," Harry said, nervously.

"Don't congratulate me yet," Ron said, sounding a bit forlorn, "I still have to buy a ring and before I can do that, I need to get a job."

"I could lend you the money, mate," Harry said, hoping the make Ron forget about what he'd been doing with Ginny, "You know that's no problem."

Ginny rolled her eyes and sighed, knowing what was about to happen.

"It _is_ a problem, Potter!" Ron yelled, jumping up off the bed, fire burning in his eyes, "I'm not a bloody charity case! I don't want your fucking money!!"

Ron turned on his heel and stormed out of his room, cursing Harry and his money as he went. Ginny sighed at Ron's exit and dropped down onto his bed, putting her head in her hands. Harry shook his head, looking confused.

"What the Hell was _that_ all about?" Harry asked nobody in particular, getting up off the camp bed, "I just don't understand him sometimes."

"Obviously," Ginny said cynically, her eyes downcast.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" he asked, snapping a bit.

"It means, Harry, that you haven't been paying attention for the last seven years," she explained, still not looking at Harry, "If you _had_ been paying attention, you'd _know_ that Ron wouldn't want your handout."

"It wasn't a handout, Gin," Harry countered, "He's my friend and I want to help. Besides, it's only money!"

"No," Ginny snapped, looking up at her boyfriend, "It's _only money_ when you _have_ money! And this isn't even _about_ the money, Harry."

"Well, since I'm so _thick_," Harry said, bitingly, "Why don't you explain it to me?!"

Ginny gritted her teeth. She didn't like Harry's tone and she found herself wanting to hit him again.

"Ron's had to live in the shadow of five older brothers," Ginny began, trying her best to keep her Weasley anger in check, "Nearly everything he's ever had has been hand-me-downs. He meets you, and all of a sudden, he's not only overshadowed by his five brothers, but by his best friend as well. You've been the focus of media attention your whole life…whether you wanted it or not…and even though Ron was by your side on nearly everything you did these last seven years, it's always been about _you_…the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One.

"How many times did Ron nearly get killed while helping you on one of your misadventures? His scars may not be lightning-shaped, but he's got them; look at them sometime. He stood by you during everything you did out of a sense of honor and loyalty…and every time, no matter what he risked, no matter the pain and suffering he endured, all the world ever saw was _you_.

"Harry Potter stopped Voldemort from getting the Philosopher's Stone…but it was Ron who sacrificed himself without knowing the consequences so you and Hermione could defeat the giant wizard's chess game. Harry Potter finds the Chamber of Secrets, slays the basilisk, and rescues the girl…and there was Ron, by your side, even though he was defenseless thanks to his broken wand. He was rewarded with a broken leg for standing by your side the year Sirius escaped from Azkaban. Harry Potter battles Voldemort and his Death Eaters at the Ministry of Magic and proves to all the world that He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named has returned…while Ron and the rest of us wind up in the hospital wing for our various injuries; Ron still bears those scars from the brain that attacked him...haven't you ever wondered why he wears long-sleeve shirts in the summer? Harry Potter battles Death Eaters in the halls of Hogwarts castle…the wizarding world doesn't know that you were paralyzed on the roof of the Astronomy Tower while the battle raged inside…a battle Ron was fighting in. Harry Potter kills Voldemort and saves the whole bloody world…and all that Ron had to do was listen as the woman he loved was being tortured, and watch his brother get killed.

Ginny was in tears now, but continued.

"Now, after seven years of having to share _her_ with _you_, Ron's got Hermione…he finally has something that's _his_ that he didn't have to have passed down from Bill to Charlie to Percy to Fred and George to him. Hermione's his and he wants to be a man and propose, and what happens? Harry Potter comes swooping in to try to save the day! It's only money to you, Harry, but to Ron it's a reminder of everything he's had to do without, every embarrassing moment he's had to endure because everything he's ever had has been hand-me-downs.

"He's always thought that everything he has is rubbish, and it's made him think that he's rubbish too…not good enough for anything, especially Hermione. Proposing to Hermione is Ron's time to shine, Harry; his time to _finally_ be in the spotlight…his chance to finally be something and someone special. You have no right to try and take it from him."

"I only wanted to help," Harry said softly as Ginny finished. He felt about the size of Professor Flitwick.

"I know, Harry," Ginny said, wiping her tears away, "But you can't. This is for Ron to do. He's a proud, stubborn, thick-headed Weasley man, and he deserves his moment in the sun."

* * *

Ron stormed out of his own bedroom, leaving Harry and Ginny alone once more. He was too busy cursing the Boy-Who-Lived and his mountain of galleons to remember he owed him a thorough beating for catching him with his hand up Ginny's shirt. He was on his way down the rickety stairs when George got his attention from the doorway of his room.

"Oi, Ronniekins," George called quietly, stepping out into the hallway, "What's got your knickers in a twist?"

"Shut it, George," Ron spat, glaring at his brother.

"Is that any way to speak to your brother?" George asked, smirking at his younger brother.

_"Such horrible manners, George…what would Mum say?"_

"What would Mum say indeed, Fred!"

"Wait…what did you say?" Ron asked, gobsmacked as he only caught the part of the conversation that _didn't_ occur in George's head, "Did you just call me Fred?"

"Of course not, Ronnie," George said moving towards him and putting an arm around Ron's shoulder, "Now come on. Let's get out of here."

"Where are we going?" Ron asked, confused and slightly worried about his brother's recent behavior.

"Diagon Alley," George said quickly, taking out his wand.

_"Where we're going to make you an offer you can't refuse."_

**--End Chapter 10--**

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Well, there's Chapter 10, which means the story's about halfway done. I can't imagine it going much past twenty chapters, if it even gets that far. I hope everyone's still enjoying themselves. I'll be back tomorrow evening to post the next chapter.


	11. Aurora Australis

**Author's Notes: **Well, Hermione left the Burrow for Australia a couple of chapters ago (at the end of Ch. 8), and in this chapter we finally catch up to her, leaving behind Ron and the others for now...don't worry, though, they'll be back next chapter!

As always, thanks to everyone who's reading my story, and a special thanks to my reviewers (**Edinburgh Love**, **Ann Malfoy**, **Cantletharrygo**, **CutewithAcapital-Q**, **fatyellowrat**, **Avanell**, **Dizzy0305**, **katie1985**, **Elytha**, **Trude**, **mugglemama**, **emmy1124**, **Emma.Jane-HPfan**, **Moony3005**, and **IsI Wisi**), especially those of you have reviewed multiple times. And even though I already thanked her once, a special huge **THANKS** (heh...I love that joke!) to **CutewithAcapital-Q** who has been, by far, my most prolific reviewer!! Thank you everyone for all your kind words.

"Aftermath" is Rated M for language and naughty stuff.

**Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling owns these characters and the world in which they live...despite the fact that seem to live in my head every damn time I close my eyes.

* * *

**"Aftermath"**

**Chapter 11 -- Aurora Australis**

Traveling from one corner of the globe to another would seem quite easy for witches and wizards, what with magical conveyances such as Apparition and the Floo Network…at least, in theory. Of course, with magical travel regulated by government bureaucracy, such as the Department of Magical Transportation inside the Ministry for Magic, it's not as simple as it might outwardly seem.

Offices such as the Floo Network Authority monitor and maintain the use of the network, and international usage requires special clearance. International links along the Floo Network will only be established once the proper paperwork has been filled out and approved.

Apparition around the world is not as strictly maintained as the Floo Network, but that method of travel has its own inherent drawbacks. The greater the distance a witch or wizard Apparates, the more concentration it requires, and the greater the chances of Splinching.

Travel by Portkey was quick and easy, but it was regulated by the Portkey Authority, and with the Ministry's current state of upheaval, getting authorization for a local Portkey would take weeks, and for an international Portkey it could take months.

International travel by broom or magic carpet is even less strictly regulated than Apparition, but considering the distances involved, traveling from country to country by either method is left to only the most adventurous and daring of witches and wizards.

All of this was explained to Hermione Granger as she and Arthur Weasley entered the Ministry through the visitor's entrance after Apparating into an alley a short distance away. Mr. Weasley was able to pull some strings and get emergency clearance for Hermione to travel from the British Ministry in London to the Australian Ministry in Canberra. Ordinarily, international clearance would have required the proper paperwork and bureaucratic red tape and could take at least a week…if not longer, considering the current _transitional_ phase the Ministry for Magic was undergoing in the wake of Voldemort's defeat.

Once they were inside the Ministry, standing in the Atrium in front of the fireplace that had been designated as Hermione's departure point, Hermione and Arthur had to wait for the signal that the connection to Australia had been established. It gave them a chance for a bit of awkward conversation.

"I see you that and Ronald have become quite…serious," Arthur said, nervously, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.

"Uhm…yes…yes we have," Hermione replied, blushing. She couldn't imagine a more embarrassing conversation for her to have with her boyfriend's father.

"Yes, well, we were pulling for you," he said, "Back when Ronald was dating that Lavender girl…all of us were hoping he'd come to his senses and find his way back to you."

"Really?" she replied. Her cheeks were still quite pink, and now tears were starting to prick at the corners of her eyes.

"He's really quite taken with you, Hermione," Arthur told her, "Has been since he was eleven."

"What?!" Hermione knew that Ron had had feelings for her for a few years now, but she assumed they'd begun around Fourth Year.

"Oh yes," he nodded, "From his very first letter home, when he went on and on about the 'annoying frizzy-haired know-it-all', Molly knew. 'Arthur,' she'd say, 'Our little boy's in love'. And when he started inviting you to spend summers at the Burrow, it was obvious."

Hermione couldn't believe her ears. Certainly Ron couldn't have had _those_ feelings for her when he was just eleven. She had thought his invitations to spend her summers with him were merely motivated by friendship…a desire to keep _the Golden Trio_ – as some had taken to calling Harry, Ron, and herself during their Hogwarts years – together. She was speechless…an unusual occurrence for her.

Arthur checked his watch. In another few minutes, the Floo connection would be open and Hermione would be on her way.

"I remember the summer after Ron's Second Year at Hogwarts," Arthur continued when Hermione remained silent, "Molly told me that Ron was quite upset as it appeared that you liked Harry instead of him."

"Harry?!" she exclaimed, not intending to sound appalled, but she did, "Harry's like a brother to me!"

"Of course he is, dear," Arthur nodded, patting her shoulder to try and calm her down, "But sometimes adolescent boys don't understand those sorts of things. When you chose to hug Harry and not Ron after that business with the Chamber of Secrets, well, I suppose Ron got it in his head that you were quite taken with Harry. As I recall, he locked himself in his room for several days after that, barely eating because of it. Luckily, Fred and George never found out the reason behind Ron's self-imposed sequestering, or they'd have never let him hear the end of it."

Hermione hadn't realized that she hugged Harry but not Ron, but as she thought back on it, Mr. Weasley was right. She'd made a habit of hugging Harry while keeping Ron at arm's length. No wonder Ron had taken so long to reveal his feelings to her…he thought he was in competition with his best friend.

"I assure you, Mr. Weasley," Hermione began in her most diplomatic and yet slightly McGonagall-esque voice, "Ronald is the only one for me."

"I have no doubt of that," Arthur said with his usual easy-going smile. A green flame erupted from the fireplace they stood in front of, signaling that the Floo connection with Australia had been established, "Ah! That's the signal. Are you ready, dear?"

"Yes, Mr. Weasley," Hermione said, butterflies suddenly erupting in her stomach like the flames in the fireplace.

"Alright then," Arthur stepped up and gave her a tender, fatherly hug, "Do be careful, Hermione. And come back to us soon. Our family's not complete without you."

"I will," she said, her voice cracking from the tears that had started flowing. She kissed Mr. Weasley on the cheek, causing him to blush, "Thank you so much for everything."

She stepped back and waved to Mr. Weasley before taking a deep breath and stepping into the fireplace. She threw down a handful of Floo powder and spoke as clearly as she could, "Australian Ministry for Magic!"

The green flames flared up around her, burning bright, causing Arthur to shield his eyes with his hand. Then just as quickly as they appeared, the flames…and Hermione…were gone. Arthur stepped away from the fireplace and began making his way to his office, wiping a few tears from his eyes. It was never easy to say goodbye to one of his children.

* * *

Another drawback of international travel was the time difference. It was shortly after eight o'clock in the morning when Hermione entered the fireplace in London, and the Ministry workers were just beginning to file into the building for work. As she stepped out of a different fireplace in what she assumed was the Australian Ministry – after spinning around in green flames watching images of rooms flash by for much, much longer than she ever had before – Hermione noticed a large clock on the wall said it was just after six o'clock, and the workers were all _leaving_ the building.

"G'day!"

Hermione jumped as a smiling face suddenly came into view, startling her. He extended a hand to her and helped her out of the fireplace. She noticed that her legs were quite wobbly and her head was swimming. Hermione decided that she definitely did not like international Floo travel.

"H-hello," she stammered as she suddenly realized she hadn't spoken yet and was standing there looking quite like a lemon.

**(A/N: Imagine Malcolm Majeebers sounding an awful lot like Steve Irwin, the Crocodile Hunter, but with a bit of a higher voice. I was going to write his dialogue as it would sound…Meess Graynjah as opposed to Miss Granger, etc. but it would get real tedious real quick. You know what Aussies sound like, so you can do the accent yourself.)**

"You must be Miss Granger," the man said in an Aussie accent (yes, this _must_ be Australia), leading her over to a chair where she flopped down heavily.

"Yes," she nodded, "Hermione Granger."

"Stoked to meet ya', Miss Granger," he said, still smiling. He reached out and shook her hand, "I'm called Malcolm Majeebers, but you can call me _Mal_. I've been assigned as your liaison while you're here in Australia."

"I…I didn't know I would _need_ a liaison, Mal," Hermione said, still feeling a little light-headed from her Floo journey.

"Too right you do," Mal said, nodding, "We can't have foreign witches running around on a Muggle hunt."

"They're my parents!" Hermione exclaimed, not quite sure what Majeebers…she didn't want to call him _Mal _anymore…was getting at.

"Don't spit the dummy at me, Miss Granger," Majeebers said, raising his hands in a defensive gesture.

"I…what?" she looked completely confused.

"Sorry…don't get upset," he said, trying to calm her down, "I was just having a go at you. I've been assigned to help you find your parents, not to keep you on a leash."

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, but she was still more than a little angry at the man. She was in no mood to be teased by a stranger. She suddenly found herself wishing Ron was here, knowing that he would have long since beat him to a pulp…causing an international incident, but at least making her feel better. She really missed him, even though she only left him a short time before. She suddenly realized that Majeebers had been talking this whole time while she was wrapped up in her thoughts.

"I…I'm sorry…?"

"I said…would you like me to show you to your hotel?" he repeated, giving her a quizzical look, "I reckon you're feeling a bit Floo lagged. You could probably do with a bit of a lie-down."

"Yes. That would be nice," Hermione agreed.

He helped her to her feet and led her to the visitors' exit of the Ministry building. They entered the rickety-looking lift that would take them up to street level. The lift car looked rather crowded and didn't seem as it would be able to hold everyone. But, with magic anything's possible.

"Street level," Mal said, and a loud _ding_ announced that his request had been acknowledged.

"Oi!" someone called from behind Mal and Hermione, reaching out and clapping Majeebers on the shoulder, "You ready for Quidditch on Saturday, mate?"

"Too right!" Mal said with a broad smile, "Our Aussie boys against Bulgaria should be a real ripper!"

Hermione had tried not to eavesdrop on the conversation, but they were talking quite loudly, despite the lift full of people. And try as she might to tune them out, when she heard the words _Quidditch_ and _Bulgaria_, her heart stopped.

"Excuse me, Mal," she said politely, interrupting the conversation, "Did you say something about the Bulgarian Quidditch team?"

Majeebers looked at her quizzically, appearing a bit like a cabbage. It took a few moments, but he finally replied to her.

"Are you into Quidditch, Miss Granger?" he asked, "You didn't seem the type."

"Well…not exactly," she started explaining, "Although I did attend the World Cup four years ago."

"So you saw Bulgaria cark it to Ireland, then?" he smiled.

"Just like Bulgaria will do against _our_ boys on Saturday!" Mal's friend exclaimed from over his shoulder.

"Would you like to come?" Mal asked, cocking an eyebrow at her. She got the distinct feeling that it was a predatory sort of look, as if the invitation to the match was an invitation to something _more_, "I think Dundee can get us an extra ticket, right mate?"

"No worries!" Dundee grinned, eyeing Hermione up-and-down.

"Uhm…no, I don't think I'll be able to," she stammered, not wanting to be alone on an outing with these two judging by the way they were ogling her, "I'll be too busy looking for my parents."

"Well, if you change your mind," Mal said with a leering smile, "Let me know."

The lift finally reached street level, to Hermione's relief, and Mal escorted her out through the visitors' exit onto a rather busy street in Canberra. Luckily, the magic of the Ministry kept any of the Muggles bustling by on the sidewalk from noticing them stepping out of a telephone booth.

As soon as she stepped out into the night air, Hermione found herself wishing she'd worn a coat. She was dressed in Muggle jeans and a jumper, as she usually was during her time spent at the Burrow, but what was comfortable for May in Britain was quite insubstantial for May in Australia. It must have been some twenty degrees colder on the streets of Canberra than it had been last night at the Burrow. She huddled her arms around herself and started to shiver.

"I thought you'd be cold," Mal laughed as he pulled his heavy travel cloak around himself, "Reckon you didn't realize it's nearly winter here in the Lucky Country."

"N-no," Hermione replied, shooting him an unkind look as he bundled himself up tighter in his cloak, "I realized that the Southern Hemisphere experiences the seasons in the direct opposite of the Northern Hemisphere; summer is winter, spring is fall. I just forgot to get my coat out of my bag."

Hermione had her handbag slung over her shoulder, and opened it quickly, despite the numbness in her fingers from the cold night air. Mal looked on, puzzled, not expecting her to have a sturdy coat in that little bag. He looked completely gobsmacked as she pulled out a heavy coat and a pair of gloves and matching scarf – both of them handmade Christmas gifts from Mrs. Weasley two years ago – from inside the handbag.

"Struth, that's a fine trick!" Mal laughed, admiringly as she quickly put on the cold weather clothing, "Well, now that you're all warm and toasty, let's head on over to your hotel. You'll be staying at a place in the wizarding part of Canberra."

"Okay," Hermione nodded, slightly embarrassed that she didn't know there _was_ a wizarding part of Canberra.

"You'll like it," Mal said, moving a bit closer to her as they walked down the street, leaning in against the stiff nighttime breeze, "_The Dingo's Durry_ is a very comfortable inn…although it may be a bit rowdy this weekend."

"Why's that?" she asked as they turned down a side street away from the hustle and bustle of Muggle foot traffic.

"Well, the Bulgarian Quidditch team's going to be in town," he reminded her of the conversation he and his friend Dundee had had in the lift, "And visiting Quidditch teams always stay at the _Dingo_. It's something of a tradition."

"Oh," she replied quietly. She wasn't sure if this was good news or bad news, and began to chew on her bottom lip as she mulled it over.

"Something wrong?" Mal asked as he noticed her pensive expression.

"N-no," she stammered, "I'm just…I'm just thinking about my parents."

"Bugger me, I almost forgot!" Majeebers exclaimed, "We'll start looking for them tomorrow. We've got some leads on your parents' whereabouts…we started doing some digging when your Mr. Weasley first contacted our Ministry."

"You do?" Hermione exclaimed, surprised. Things could be looking up.

"Too right," Mal said, laughing at her surprised expression, "Reckon there's not a lot of Wendell and Monica Wilkinses who moved here from Britain in the last year who just happen to be dentists."

Hermione looked dumbfounded. How could she not have realized how easy it would be to simplify her search?

"I guess I was just too upset to _think_ of that," she said, blushing. She _must_ have been upset to not think of cross-referencing her parents' _new_ names against dentists moving from Britain within the last year. Must have been _incredibly_ upset to come to Australia with _no_ plan for finding her parents, and thinking she'd have to comb the entire continent in search of them. _"Brightest witch of my age…HA!"_

"We've got a few contacts within the Muggle Ministry," Mal continued as they entered a dark alley that dead-ended in a brick wall, "We told them what we're looking for earlier today, and they said they should have something for us before close of business tomorrow."

They continued down the blind alley to the brick wall. Hermione started to get a little concerned. She remembered how Mal and Dundee were ogling her in the lift before, and wondered if, perhaps, he led her down this alley with some evil intentions.

"Here we are," Mal said, winking at her as he took out his wand, "End of the line."

Hermione gave him a nervous glance, slowly moving her fingers to the coat pocket where she had her wand. If Majeebers was about to try something, then she was about to hex his bits off.

For his part, Majeebers didn't notice Hermione's nervousness or her move towards her wand pocket. He stepped up to the wall, his wand out.

_"Flagrate!"_

Fire sprung forth from the tip of his wand, and Mal used it to draw the fiery outline of a door on the brick wall in front of him. Once that was accomplished, he knocked three times on the area within the outline. Suddenly, the wall began to move, opening towards Mal and Hermione, allowing them access to the wizarding side of town. He waved his arm in front of him with a flourish, indicating she should go first.

"After you..."

"Thanks," she said, blushing again as she once more felt embarrassed. She'd nearly hexed him into next week, and he was just trying to take her to her hotel.

Hermione stepped through the doorway and Mal followed right behind her. The sound of stone grating on stone told her without looking that the door in the brick wall had just closed behind them.

"Welcome to Bunyip Square," Mal said, trying to sound officious, "Follow me, and I'll show you to the _Dingo_. I made arrangements for you for the next week. I doubt your search will take that long, but in case we hit a snag, it's better to be on the safe side."

"Okay," Hermione said, following him, "I want to thank you for everything, Mal. I've only just arrived, and you've already gotten me leads on my parents' whereabouts as well as a place to stay while I'm here."

"No worries, Miss Granger," he said with a beaming smile, his eyes twinkled pleasantly, "I'm glad to help. Especially after what you all did over there with You-Know-Who!"

Bunyip Square was a large marketplace along the lines of Diagon Alley in London. A large plaza was flanked by shops of various types…the names were different, but there was a definite familiarity to the atmosphere for Hermione. At the far end of the square a large, white building featuring marble steps and ionic columns was _very_ familiar to her.

_"Australia has its own Gringotts branch,"_ she thought as she looked around.

In the middle of the plaza was a large fountain. A golden statue of some sort of creature – kind of a cross between a large seal and a shark – stood in the center. Hermione had no idea what it was, and she was starting to feel very much down on herself for not having researched the country and its culture before traveling here; of course, she _had_ been rather busy.

"That's a bunyip," Mal said when he noticed her eyeing the statue, "It's a creature found in billabongs, swamps, rivers…bodies of water…likes to eat women and children."

"That's horrible," Hermione said, stifling a gasp. The statue of the bunyip was made so as to appear to be breaching out of the water of the fountain, as if about to strike at some unwary victim stopping for a drink of cool water. Hermione could just picture it snapping up some small child and she shuddered.

_"Hagrid would probably think it was a perfect bath-time companion,"_ she found herself thinking.

"Luckily, bunyips stay away from large cities," Mal went on, putting a hand on the small of her back to usher her on past the fountain. Hermione found that she didn't like the contact, "They keep to the Bush…usually."

They walked for another ten minutes until coming to a large red brick building done in a Georgian style, reminiscent of many buildings Hermione'd seen in England that dated back to the late 18th and early 19th centuries. A wooden signboard over the front door depicted a ginger-colored dog smoking a cigarette.

Majeebers opened the door for Hermione and she entered quickly, not wanting him to touch her again. She immediately found herself inside a large room full of small round tables dominated by a long bar on the far end of the room.

"Welcome to _The Dingo's Durry_, Miss Granger," Malcolm Majeebers said with a smile. He moved up next to her and put an arm around her, resting his hand on her shoulder causing her to, once again, shudder.

"Mal!"

A short, balding, overweight man wearing an apron made his way towards them, wiping his hands on a towel. Once crossing the room to where Hermione and Majeebers stood, he grabbed the Ministry liaison in a back-slapping, manly hug.

"Holy dooley, mate, I haven't seen you in forever!"

"Work's had me flat out like a lizard drinkin', Denny," Mal explained with a ready smile. He turned towards Hermione, his arm still around her, "This little Shiela's here for a room, mate."

"Good onya, Miss," Denny said, smiling at her before casting a sly glance at Mal, "I see what's been keeping you busy, yer mug!"

"None o' that," Mal said, taking his arm off Hermione and waving his hands defensively at Denny, "This is strictly Ministry business, mate!"

"No worries, Mal," Denny said, slapping his friend on the back before turning to face Hermione, "You must be Miss Granger?"

"That's right," Hermione nodded, feeling flustered. She was having a difficult time understanding the two men. She got the general idea of what they were saying, but the strange turns-of-phrase they were using had her a little gobsmacked.

"Good onya, Miss," Denny said, nodding and once again smiling, "We've got a right nice room for you, and with the boys from Bulgaria coming in this weekend, it's the last _free_ room in the entire inn!"

Denny reached into his apron pocket and pulled out a key with the number eighteen engraved on it. Hermione took it and looked towards the stairs, anxious to separate herself from Mal. He creeped her out a bit, although it might just have been her nerves combined with the long distance Flooing. She was sure, however, Ron would have broken Mal's arm the moment he put it around her.

"Room eighteen's at the top o' the stairs, and down the hall," Denny explained, "Second door on the left. If you need anything, just let me know."

"Thank you," Hermione said with a slight smile before turning to Mal, "And once again, Mal, thanks for everything."

"No drama, Miss Granger," Mal said, smiling broadly, "I'll swing by and fetch you first thing in the morning…and we'll see if we can't find those parents of yours."

"Okay," she nodded, turning to go upstairs. As she reached the first step, she turned back to Mal, and without really understanding why she did, she said, "You can call me Hermione."

* * *

Hermione Granger lay in bed, watching the ceiling fan rotate slowly, trying to fall asleep in the strange bed. She rolled over, kicking the covers off of her, and looked around the dark hotel room wishing that it was the simple, cramped bedroom she shared with Ginny whenever she visited the Burrow. If it was, then she knew that Ron would be somewhere above her, lying in his attic bedroom, and she would feel safe and secure and loved and all would be right with the world.

Oh, how she missed her scruffy, ginger-headed boyfriend. Tears started to prick the corners of her eyes as she mentally berated herself for not allowing him to come along with her to Australia. She hugged her arms around herself, snuggling into the orange Chudley Cannons shirt she wore, a shirt – much like the orange Chudley Cannons boxers she now wore – that she had stolen from Ron's wardrobe the night before she left…shortly after giving him "something to remember her by".

She could hardly believe that she was actually here in Australia, here to search for her parents; away from Ron…and Harry…for the first time in a year. She sighed mournfully and the tears that were threatening to come finally did, and in the darkness of the strange hotel room in the middle of Canberra, Australia, Hermione Granger cried herself to sleep.

The next day, Mal was waiting for her down in the common room when she made her way downstairs. He was once again smiling broadly when he saw her, and that twinkle was back in his eye. Yes, she definitely did not _like_ that _twinkle_.

"Ready to face the day?" he asked cheerfully as she approached him.

"As ready as I'll ever be," she sighed. She still had a nagging sense that something would go wrong, and she wouldn't find her parents.

They started to make their way towards the front door of _The Dingo's Durry_, when there was a sudden commotion out front. The door to the inn burst open and in stormed a dozen or so burly men all dressed in robes cut in a distinctly foreign style. None of the men looked familiar to Hermione, but there was a definite familiar _air_ about the men.

And then she heard it.

"Herm-own-ninny!!"

Before she could react, she was grabbed into a crushing bear-hug and spun in the air. She started to feel light headed from the room spinning around and the oxygen being crushed out of her lungs; flashes of light seemed to be exploding around her. Finally she was deposited back onto her feet, dazed and slightly wobbly. She grabbed onto the well-muscled arms that still encircled her waist for support before looking up into a face she hadn't seen since Bill and Fleur Weasley's wedding last August.

"Hello, Viktor."

-- End Chapter 11 --

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Okay, so...who here hates Viktor Krum as much as I do?? Anybody?? I hope it's not too cliche, me throwing the beedy-eyed Bulgarian into my story. I also hope the problems he causes aren't too cliche or irreparable. Ugh! I HATE Krum!

By the way, hope you enjoyed this chapter and will continue to read "Aftrmath". Chapter 12 will be posted tomorrow.


	12. Misery

**Author's Notes: **We're back from Australia with this chapter (although temporarily...I mean...we gotta find out what's gonna happen with Viktor, right?). Hopefully everyone will like it.

It was pointed out to me that my Australian dialogue was stereotypical and not representative of the way Australians _actually_ talk. I would like to apologize to any Australians who happen to read "Aftermath" and are offended in any way by the dialogue. My knowledge of Australian speech is based the "Crocodile Dundee" movies, _The Crocodile Hunter_ TV show, and a website of Australian slang terminology.

As usual, I want to take this time to thank everyone who's reading my story, and give a special thanks to my reviewers (**Edinburgh Love**, **Ann Malfoy**, **Cantletharrygo**, **CutewithAcapital-Q**, **fatyellowrat**, **Avanell**, **Dizzy0305**, **katie1985**, **Elytha**, **Trude**, **mugglemama**, **emmy1124**, **Emma.Jane-HPfan**, **Moony3005**, **IsI Wisi**, **Lady Anja**, **embergrl9010**, **the written princess**, **MissFinnegan**, and **Tiffany M**), especially those of you have reviewed multiple times. Thank you everyone for all your kind words.

"Aftermath" is rated M for language and naughty stuff.

**Disclaimer:** Everything here totally belongs to J.K. Rowling.

* * *

**"Aftermath"**

**Chapter 12 -- Misery**

Ron Weasley made his way through the shop carrying a crate full of Skiving Snack Boxes, leaving the dusty storage room and dropping the crate on the floor of the shop's main room. He opened the crate and began unloading the Snack Boxes, piling them neatly on a display shelf.

"Careful with the merchandise, Ronniekins," George scolded from behind the counter.

_"You break it, you bought it!"_ sounded the voice in George's head that sounded so very much like his deceased twin brother.

"Fred's right, Ron," George continued, nonplused by the fact that _he_ was the only one who could hear _imaginary_ Fred's voice, "We'll have to dock your pay for anything you break."

Ron cast a glance over at his brother, narrowing his eyes at George as he watched him filling smaller display shelves along the counter. He'd been doing that all day…referring to Fred as if they were both right there having a conversation.

"He's gone barking mad," Ron mumbled to himself, concern for his brother causing the hairs on the back of his neck to prickle, "I'm starting to think this was a bad idea."

Shortly after Ron had stormed out of his own bedroom this morning – furious with his best mate, Harry, for offering to _give_ him the money to buy Hermione's ring so he wouldn't have to get a job and _earn_ it – George had stopped him and told him to go to Diagon Alley with him.

They arrived and made their way immediately to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Once inside, George told Ron that _they_ had changed _their_ minds, and were ready to re-open the shop and were going to give him a job. The excitement of not only getting George out of the Burrow finally but of also getting a job was dulled by George's behavior.

After hours of cleaning, moving boxes and crates, stocking the shelves, and generally getting the shop in tip-top condition for the grand re-opening, the place looked like it had prior to its closing…prior to the war. It was well after dinnertime when they left the shop.

"We'll need to get in touch with Verity and let her know we're re-opening," George said as he looked at the storefront. He took out his wand and cast a quick spell, causing a large banner to appear above the large front windows. The blaringly bright banner read: _Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes – Grand Re-Opening: Saturday!_ "There. Now _everyone_ will know we're re-opening."

_"Brilliant, George!"_

"Thank you, Fred!"

Ron sighed, casting another worried glance at his brother, "Can we just go now? I'm _starving_!"

Moments later, the Weasley brothers Disapparated, leaving Number 93, Diagon Alley, and returned to the Burrow. Dinner was long since over, although someone had thought to put some aside for them. The food was good, but not good enough to be his Mum's, so Ron figured Ginny must have cooked.

After dinner, Ron made his way up to his room, thoroughly exhausted from a long day of work. Harry wasn't there – in fact, Ron hadn't seen Harry _or_ Ginny since he'd returned home – but Ron was too tired to go looking for him. He figured that his best mate was probably avoiding him after their confrontation earlier.

Ron got undressed and climbed into bed. He was just getting himself comfortable and was about to drift off, when his hand brushed against something under his pillow. He pulled it out and found a piece of parchment wrapped around something. He turned a light on and quickly unwrapped the bundle to find Hermione's _flimsy knickers._

"Blimey!" Ron gasped as he ran his fingers over the silky material. Then he noticed the parchment had writing on it…a note from Hermione.

_Dearest Ronald,_

_You seemed quite taken with these before, so I thought I'd give them to you as a memento of what we did. Incidentally, they're called not called "flimsy knickers", it's called a thong. It's a Muggle invention._

_Please don't forget about me, Ron. I love you._

_Love,_

_Hermione_

_xoxoxoxo_

_P.S._

_I really will be back soon._

"Muggle knickers," Ron sighed, running the underwear through his fingers for a few minutes more, before tucking them back under his pillow, "Dad's right…Muggles really do make wonderful things."

* * *

After Ron had blown up at him, and Ginny explained what Harry had done wrong, the Boy-Who-Lived went in search of his best mate in order to apologize. When he couldn't find any sign of Ron, Harry went out to the pond, sat under his favorite tree (where he and Ginny had been snogging when the owls showed up two days ago) and set about brooding over his upcoming decision.

He didn't want any company; he just wanted to be left alone. But he knew that wasn't going to happen when he heard footsteps coming up behind him. He sighed heavily, looking down.

"Ginny…please…I'd really like to be alone right now," Harry said without looking up. He heard the footsteps stop and thought that Ginny might be going back into the house.

"I'm sorry, Harry, dear," Mrs. Weasley's voice startled him. She was the last person he would expect to come walking up behind him, "I just thought we could talk."

"Of course we can, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, blushing slightly, "I thought you were Ginny…I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, dear," Mrs. Weasley said softly as she shuffled over to where he was sitting. To his surprise, she took a seat next to him under the tree. She looked around and smiled. "It's been some time since I've come out here to sit. Arthur and I used to spend our evenings watching the sun set from under this tree…back before Bill was born."

Harry blushed and looked away. He was desperately trying to remove the image of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley laying beneath the shade of the beech tree, snogging each other senseless, Mr. Weasley's hand stealing up under Mrs. Weasley's blouse…

"Ah!" Harry exclaimed, jumping to his feet, "Uh…wouldn't you rather go back inside, Mrs. Weasley? We could have a spot of tea and talk?"

"Don't be silly, Harry," Mrs. Weasley clucked with a smile, patting the ground beside her, "It's a lovely day…too lovely for a young man to stay inside."

"Okay," Harry relented, sitting back down and praying that no more intimate images of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley popped into his head, "What did you want to talk about?"

"You and Ginny were having a row up in Ronald's room earlier, weren't you?" she asked, looking over at him. There was a hollow sadness in her eyes, and once again he felt responsible for her pain.

"Yeah," Harry nodded, "It was my fault...I was being stupid. I'm sorry for making such a racket. I know you need your rest."

"Did Arthur tell you that?!" she snapped, "That man! When he gets home, I'm going to have some angry words with him!"

"I'm sorry…" Harry felt even worse now, knowing he'd just gotten Mr. Weasley in hot water.

"Oh, Harry, dear, don't apologize. This isn't your fault," Mrs. Weasley said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, "Arthur means well, treating me like some delicate flower."

"He's worried about you," Harry said, "We all are."

Mrs. Weasley looked at Harry and he could see tears swimming at the corners of her eyes. She gave him a watery smile and pulled him into a hug.

"You're a good boy, Harry Potter," Molly said, hugging him tight, "_All_ my sons are good boys."

Harry hugged her back, giving as good as he got. She was the closest thing he had to a mother; the only woman he'd ever known who tried to take care of him. Knowing that she thought of him as a son made him feel warm all over. Knowing that he had a family that loved him and wanted him…even after everything that had happened…he broke down and started crying onto Mrs. Weasley's shoulder.

They sat there like that for several minutes, clinging to each other as they shed their tears. Finally, when they broke apart, Harry felt like he truly did belong to the Weasley family…like this was his home.

* * *

Ginny Weasley hated arguing with Harry Potter. She loved him with every bit of her heart, and every time they fought, it was like her heart was shattered into a million pieces. Sometimes, however, the only way to get through to the Boy-Who-Lived was to get into a row with him, especially when he was in full-on Brood Mode. Still, after yelling at him, Ginny felt horrendously guilty.

_"This is not how it's supposed to be when you're in love,"_ Ginny thought as she lie in her bed, lost in her thoughts, _"Unless you're Ron and Hermione. They turn arguing into some sort of bizarre foreplay."_

The thought of her brother and his girlfriend and _whatever_ it was they did for foreplay made her shudder. _That_ was one of the _last_ things she would ever want to think about. She got up out of bed and left the room, hoping thoughts of her brother and Hermione's foreplay would not leap unbidden into her mind anymore.

She hurried downstairs in search of Harry. It didn't take long to find him outside in the garden, down by the pond. Of course, it was a little shocking to see him sitting under the beech tree…_their_ tree…hugging her mother.

"Hem-hem," Ginny cleared her throat, doing her best impression of toad-faced Dolores Umbridge. It had the desired effect; Harry pulled away from her mum and looked up at Ginny with wide eyes, "I never thought I'd find my boyfriend and my own MOTHER out here, by the pond, snogging each other senseless!"

"Ginny!" Molly exclaimed, exasperated by her daughter's statement, "Saying such things!!"

Mrs. Weasley struggled up off the ground to her feet with a little help from Harry. Ginny couldn't hold back her laughter at the absurdity of the situation. Harry, too, was laughing.

"Oh come _on, _Mother, you _know_ you're Harry's type!" Ginny said with mock indignation, "He really goes for bossy redheads with a temper!"

"Oh, really, Ginny!" Mrs. Weasley gasped, "That's so absurd!"

"She's not wrong," Harry said to Mrs. Weasley, "Ginny's a bossy redhead with a temper, and I'm mad for _her_."

"Hmph!" Ginny crossed her arms over her chest as she huffed at Harry, pretending to be offended by his statement. Her eyes, however, betrayed the love she had for Harry and the amusement she was finding in this whole situation, "I'm not bossy! I'm…headstrong."

"Stubborn," Harry added, laughing.

"Hey!" Ginny yelled, her eyes still flashing her happiness at Harry, "Mum, Harry called me _stubborn_!"

"Of course he did, dear," Molly said looking at the two teenagers. She placed a loving hand on each of their cheeks as she gazed at them both, "Harry knows you're stubborn, headstrong, _and_ bossy, Ginevra…and he knows all about your temper…"

"What temper?!" Ginny yelled, pretending to be upset, stomping her foot for emphasis, "I do _not_ have a _temper_!"

Harry chuckled at Ginny's little mock tirade, earning a punch in the arm from the red haired girl.

"Now, now, dear," Mrs. Weasley clucked, "That's not very ladylike. Now, as I was saying…Harry knows all about you and he loves you just the same."

Harry and Ginny both blushed as Mrs. Weasley said this, and they cast embarrassed glances at each other, smiling shyly. They knew how they felt about each other, but hearing Ginny's mother talk openly with them about it was more than a little uncomfortable.

"I'm just glad you found each other…just like Ronald and Hermione," Mrs. Weasley said, her voice cracking slightly. She had unshed tears swimming at the corners of her brown eyes, "Knowing that you'll be there for each other…take care of each other…it does an old lady's heart good."

"Mum, you're not old," Ginny said, tears now prickling her own brown eyes. She had a funny feeling about the direction this conversation was taking.

"Now, Ginny, dear, I'm no spring chicken," Molly countered, "I won't always be around to take care of you, but that's okay now that I know you've got each other."

"Mum…you're going to be around for a long time to take care of us," Ginny sobbed, her tears finally starting to fall.

"Oh, Ginny, dear, nobody lives forever," Molly said in a soft, tender voice as she gently stroked Ginny's cheek.

Harry's stomach gave a lurch as he observed the scene before him. Mrs. Weasley seemed to be saying goodbye to her daughter, or at least trying to prepare Ginny for the inevitability that, one day, Mrs. Weasley would die. Death must be on everyone's mind these days…after what happened to Fred.

"Mum, please don't talk like this!" Ginny cried, "You're going to be around for a long time!"

"Of course I will, dear," Molly said pulling Ginny and Harry into a hug. When she released the embrace, Mrs. Weasley gave them each a sad look, "I'm feeling a bit tired now, dears, I think I'll go have a lie-down."

Harry and Ginny watched Mrs. Weasley make her way back up the garden to the Burrow, eventually disappearing through the back door. Once her mother was out of sight, Ginny threw herself at Harry, burying her face in his chest and crying her eyes out. Harry could do nothing but hold her and gently caress her back as he wondered if Mrs. Weasley was going to be okay.

The rest of the day was spent beneath the beech tree, holding each other, and trying not to think about the implications of what Mrs. Weasley had said to them. Surely she wasn't going to die anytime soon…was she? All thoughts of deciding on his future were forgotten as Harry and Ginny sought solace in each other's arms.

Later in the day, Harry and Ginny made their way back into the house. Mr. Weasley and Percy would be returning from the Ministry soon, and Ginny felt there should be dinner on the table waiting for them. Harry volunteered to cook (having been made to cook for the Dursleys for years), while Ginny went off to check on her mother.

Dinner was a quiet, subdued affair. Arthur and Percy talked about the restructuring at the Ministry until they realized no one was really listening. Molly had gotten up from her nap at Ginny's urging and commented on how Harry had done a fine job on the meal, and it was one less thing that they needed her for. Ginny had nearly broken down at this, but kept her tears in, having had cried her eyes out on Harry's shoulder for most of the day. Harry felt awkward and wished he could be somewhere else the whole time.

Ron and George's disappearance earlier that day and their absence from dinner was discussed only briefly and it was suggested by Mr. Weasley that the boys had merely gone off to drown their sorrows together. When dinner finally ended, Harry breathed a silent sigh of relief and volunteered to clean the dishes and Ginny offered to help.

Mr. Weasley escorted his wife up to their room, and she went without so much as a backwards glance. Percy, after commenting on the quality of the meal that Harry prepared, made his way upstairs to do some quiet reading before getting a good night's sleep…which he reminded Harry and Ginny is the cornerstone of a productive day.

Once the dinner dishes had been taken care of, Ginny and Harry made their way into the sitting room. He challenged her to a game of wizard's chess (which he lost horribly) to get her mind off the things her mother had said earlier.

After beating Harry handily several times, Ginny decided that she couldn't stay around the house feeling the way she was right now. She was much too stressed about the comments her mother had made earlier…she was terrified that her mother was going to give into her depression and…and…Ginny couldn't even bring herself to finish that thought.

"Harry, please go for a walk with me," Ginny asked, the sadness in her voice and the heartache in her eyes making it impossible for him to say no, "I can't be here right now."

"Of course, Ginny. Come on," Harry took her hand and led her out the front door, into the night.

They walked around the garden, holding hands in silence. Harry allowed Ginny to gently lead him, knowing this was all for her benefit, so willing to follow her wherever she felt she needed to go. Finally, they emerged into the hidden glade the Weasley children used for Quidditch games…the same makeshift pitch Ron and Hermione had sought out after Fred's funeral.

"Mum's scaring me," Ginny said softly as she sat down on the soft grass beneath a birch tree. Harry sat down next to her and put his arm around her and Ginny immediately put her head on his shoulder, "Saying that we don't need her anymore. She's talking like she's given up on living…what would make her talk like that?"

Harry ran his hand up and down Ginny's arm as he held her, trying to comfort her. He really didn't have an answer to Ginny's question, but if something _did_ happen to Mrs. Weasley, it would just be one more death added to the toll he'd accumulated over the years. One more person that he destroyed just by being alive…one more measure of pain he'd caused the Weasleys…the kindest people he'd ever known. He would never forgive himself, and he would never let them forgive him either.

The young couple sat under the boughs of the birch trees well into the night. So wrapped up in their commiserating, they never heard the _crack_ and _pop_ of Ron and George arriving in the garden via Apparition. By the time Harry and Ginny made their way into the house, the occupants of the Burrow were sleeping, and the lopsided cottage was deathly quiet.

Harry couldn't help wondering if the silence was just the quiet calm before some unforeseen storm…a storm that would once again leave the Weasley family scarred and broken.

**-- End Chapter 12 --**

* * *

**Author's End Notes: **I don't like a sad Molly Weasley...hopefully I'll find a way to cheer her up soon. Chapter 13 will be up tomorrow evening.


	13. Trouble Down Under

**Author's Notes:** In this chapter, I introduce Hermione's parents. Now, as far as I know, they've only been identified as Mr. and Mrs. Granger (or maybe that should be Dr. and Dr. Granger), so I'm going to call them John and Elizabeth...I was going to call Mrs. Granger "Jean" since that's Hermione's middle name, but I decided that "John and Elizabeth" rolled off the tongue much nicer. Nice, ordinary names for some nice, ordinary Muggles.

Once again, this chapter features Australian dialogue. My last attempt didn't go over well with an Australian reader, and if this, too seems stereotypical, I once again apologize.

As always, thanks to everyone who's reading this story (and if you don't enjoy it, I'm sorry), and my usual special thanks to my reviewers (**Edinburgh Love**, **Ann Malfoy**, **Cantletharrygo**, **CutewithAcapital-Q**, **fatyellowrat**, **Avanell**, **Dizzy0305**, **katie1985**, **Elytha**, **Trude**, **mugglemama**, **emmy1124**, **Emma.Jane-HPfan**, **Moony3005**, **IsI Wisi**, **Lady Anja**, **embergrl9010**, **the written princess**, **MissFinnegan**, and **Tiffany M**). I appreciate each and every one of your reviews (which is why I reply to each and every one).

A special shout-out and thanks to **CutewithAcapital-Q** who has been a great sounding board for me since I've started posting this story.

"Aftermath" is rated M for language and nughty stuff.

**Disclaimer:** J.K.R. is the owner.

* * *

**"Aftermath"**

**Chapter 13 -- Trouble Down Under**

"Vot are you doing here, Herm-own-ninny?" Viktor Krum asked in that thick Bulgarian accent of his. He cocked a thick, furry eyebrow at her and gave her what he hoped was an award-winning smile, "Did you come all this vay to votch me play?"

"Not exactly, Viktor," Hermione said, trying to take a step back. He didn't seem to want to let go of her, "I'm in Australia on _personal_ business."

She looked up at his face – his thick, black eyebrows, his large, curved nose, the little black beard – and smiled halfheartedly. Hermione didn't want to be a bad friend…and she _did_ consider Viktor a friend…but if she was honest, she really didn't want to see him right now.

More flashes of light explode around her, and Hermione finally noticed that a photographer was taking pictures. Before she could protest, Mal Majeebers pulled her aside.

"You know Viktor bleedin' Krum?" Mal asked, leaning down to whisper it in her ear.

She shot him a glance and he seemed to be in awe of that fact. She rolled her eyes. _Men!_

"This is not…vot vos his name…Rom?" Viktor said, eyeing Mal up-and-down like an alpha male lion confronted with an interloping male from another pride. In short, Viktor was acting like Mal was invading _his_ territory.

"His name is _Ron_, Viktor," Hermione said mirthlessly, "And no, this is not Ron. This is Malcolm Majeebers."

"Too right, but you can call me _Mal_, mate!" Majeebers held out a hand for Krum to shake.

Viktor looked down at Mal's outstretched hand, and wrinkled his nose up at it. After several awkward moments, the Bulgarian Quidditch star reached out and shook Mal's hand with a crushing, vise-like grip.

"Crikey!!" Mal squeaked as Viktor nearly broke his hand, "That's one Hell of a grip you have there! Can't wait to tell all me mates that I shook Viktor Krum's hand!!"

The photographer snapped more pictures, flashbulbs popping in Hermione's face, causing spots to form in front of her eyes. She put her hands up to protect herself from the glaring flashes of light, her temper rising.

"Ex_cuse_ me!!" Hermione snapped, "Would you please stop that!"

"Stop vot? Dees ees my…how you call…yob," the photographer growled, "I am team photogwaffer! I am to document Bulgaria's weectory over Australia."

"Not bloody likely, mate," Mal interjected with a ready smile, "I reckon our Aussie team's ready for you lot!"

"Bulgaria is haffing perfect…how you call…seestem," the team photog explained in (at best) broken English.

"Season, Gregor," Krum corrected him, "Perfect _season_."

"Yes, of course…perfect _season_," the photographer repeated, "I am here to document season."

"This is all _very_ fascinating," Hermione lied, "But Mal and I really do have to be going."

"Then perhaps you and your _boyfriend_," Viktor said, eyeing Mal nastily, "Vill haff dinner vit me tonight?"

"Too right we will, mate!!" Mal yelled, excited to be invited to dinner with an international Quidditch star of Viktor Krum's renown.

"He's not my boyfriend, Viktor," Hermione snapped, her temper all but lost, "He works for the Ministry and he's helping me with something."

"Still," Viktor said, taking her hand and bringing up to his lips, "Come to dinner; both of you. We meet here at eight o'clock and go someplace…nice."

"Don't worry, Viktor," Mal yelled, grabbing Hermione's arm and heading for the door, "We've gotta run now, but we'll see you for dinner!"

Once outside, Hermione snatched her arm away from Mal and shot him a withering glare.

"Do you mind?!" she snapped angrily.

"Sorry, ducks," he replied, pulling back moving his hands up in a defensive posture, "I just reckoned we needed to be on our way if we're to be finding your parents as soon as possible."

Hermione grumbled something under her breath and then nodded to Mal. They made their way back down to the Ministry and within half-an-hour, Hermione was sitting in Mal's office waiting for him to return with information about her parents. She was impatiently sipping the cup of tea he'd gotten for her upon their arrival, but it was doing nothing to calm the jittery feelings that were currently waltzing their way through her stomach.

The door opened two hours later, and Hermione jumped to her feet, an expectant look on her face. Mal entered carrying a stack of parchment. He smiled sheepishly at her, and it made her even more nervous. What was he hiding?

"We've found your parents," Mal said less-than-enthusiastically, "But there's a bit of a problem."

Hermione's heart jumped into her throat and she felt her knees go weak. She dropped heavily back into the chair she'd been sitting in, expecting the worst. Tears started to prick the corners of her eyes and her lower lip started to quiver. Were her parents alive? Did something happen to them during the year she was gone?

"W-what problem?" she gasped, afraid of the answer.

Mal placed the stack of parchment down on the desk in front of Hermione and then sat down behind his desk. Hermione's eyes were full of dread and her knuckles were white as she gripped the corner of his desk.

"They're gone," Mal said, flipping through the stack of parchment until he found the sheet he wanted, "Wendell and Monica Wilkins are on holiday. They left almost two weeks ago on a cruise to the South Pacific."

Mal handed her the sheet of parchment; it was a copy of cruise reservations and a ship's itinerary, registered under the names Wendell and Monica Wilkins. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, having been sure that Mal Majeebers was about to tell her that her parents were dead.

Hermione looked at the paperwork in front of her, trying to steady her shaking hands and calm her frazzled nerves. She flipped through the papers and noticed the date. She hadn't even paid attention to the date when she planned her mission to recover her parents. Her mind was in such a disorganized state with everything that had happened over the past year, she'd totally forgotten.

"It was their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary last week," she said, wiping a tear from her eye, "They honeymooned in the South Pacific…said they always wanted to go back. I guess, even with the memory charms, they remembered that."

"Well, they're scheduled to return on Sunday," Mal said, looking at the paperwork, "We can go see them Sunday night or Monday morning."

Hermione nodded her head, sighing wistfully. It would be at least two more days before she saw her parents again. Despite having been apart from them for almost a year now, the anticipation was getting to her. To be so close to her goal, and still to be so far away was absolutely maddening.

"Thank you for your help, Mal," she said quietly, "I guess I'll just go back to the inn…unless you need me for anything?"

"No, ducks, we're not going to need you here," Mal said, frowning slightly at her obvious disappointment, "There are some papers I need to file, but we won't need you until we actually go to your parents' place. Still, you shouldn't just mope around the inn all day, why don't you go shopping or just spend the day touring Bunyip Plaza?"

"I might," Hermione replied halfheartedly. Truthfully, she had no intention of doing any of that. Sitting in her room at the inn and moping seemed about right to her.

"I'm sure if you're feeling lonely," Mal added as she rose from her seat and he started to walk her out, "Viktor Krum would keep you company…he seemed quite taken with you."

Hermione rolled her eyes and grimaced at the mention of the Bulgarian Quidditch player. Spending time with him was the last thing she needed right now.

"You know," Mal continued as they left his office and began the walk towards the lift that would take Hermione back up to the street above, "You never did tell me how it is that you know Viktor Krum."

Hermione sighed heavily and stopped walking.

"I met him at school almost four years ago," she explained, "He was there for an intermural school tournament. I was his date to the Yule Ball. We've remained friends by correspondence."

"So Viktor Krum is your ex-boyfriend?" Mal asked, a bit shocked. This girl didn't seem like the type to date an International Quidditch star. "I guess that explains the way he was looking at you."

"Look, Mal, I'm going to say this once and only once," Hermione snapped, annoyed beyond the point of being nice, no matter how much he'd helped her, "Viktor was _never_ my boyfriend. It was _one_ date…and to be honest, I only did it to make someone else jealous."

Mal looked particularly gobsmacked at Hermione's admission. Despite all signs to the contrary, she was just like a lot of girls he'd known, playing one bloke against the other.

"So, did it work?" he asked as they continued on towards the lift.

"To be honest," she said quietly as she continued her trek beside him, "It all sort of blew up in my face. He got jealous, alright, and it took us years to fix the damage it did to our relationship."

"Sorry to hear that," Mal said conversationally. They reached the lift and he pushed the call button. "Did you at least get your bloke in the end?"

Hermione blushed. She really didn't like talking about all this. She probably wouldn't have if her mind wasn't so frazzled right now.

"Yes, I did," she admitted, "I got him. He's mine. And as soon as I get my parents back, I'm going home to him."

Mal smiled at her as the lift arrived. Hermione got in and he waved to her.

"I'll see you at the _Dingo_ later so we can go to dinner with Krum," Mal reminded her, causing Hermione to roll her eyes, "If anything comes up in the meantime, though, I'll be in touch."

"Thanks, Mal. See you later."

Hermione took the lift up to street level, put on her coat and began the walk back down to the alley that led to Bunyip Plaza. It didn't take her long to return to the inn and her room, where she immediately dropped into bed, closing her eyes and imagining what it'll be like to be able to have dinner at her childhood home with her parents and her boyfriend.

_"So, Ronald," John Granger looked across the table at the redhead sitting next to his only child…the apple of his eye, "Hermione tells me you work in a _joke shop_."_

_Hermione didn't like the way her father said that. It seemed like he was belittling Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. She looked over at her boyfriend, and saw that his ears were getting red, a sign he was either embarrassed or angry._

_"It's my brother, George's shop," Ron explained, "I've been helping him run it since my brother Fred…George's twin and business partner…died in the final battle against Voldemort."_

_"And do you really think you can support a family with a joke shop salary?" her father asked, quirking an eyebrow at the redhead._

_"Frankly," Ron answered, pushing his plate away, obviously no longer hungry thanks to the conversation, "No. I don't think for one minute that I can support a wife and children on what I make at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes; and truthfully, I don't plan to try."_

_Hermione gasped, looking at her boyfriend…the man she loved…as he said this, unable to believe her ears. He didn't intend to support a wife and kids? Didn't he want them to get married and start a family? Didn't he want to spend his life with her? Didn't he love her?_

_"Well, that being said," her father continued, pushing his own plate away, "What are your intentions towards my daughter? Because if you don't intend to marry her, then I think the two of you should break up. You've been leading her on for years now, and if there's not a marriage in her future, she needs to move on."_

_"Dad!" Hermione gasped, unable to believe what her father was saying._

_"If you don't think I'm good enough for you daughter," Ron shot back, "Then maybe she should."_

_"Ron!!" she gasped again, this time at the love of her life. She couldn't believe how horrible this dinner was going._

_"To be honest," Mr. Granger went on, ignoring his daughter's outbursts, "I _don't_ think you're good enough for Hermione. You come from a poor family, your job can't support a family, you never finished school…I don't want my only daughter to end up with a loser like you. Perhaps if you were an international Quidditch star like her first boyfriend…"_

_No, no, no, no, no, no, no!! This could _not_ be happening!! Her father did _not_ just call Ron a loser! He didn't just compare him to Viktor Krum. He didn't just refer to Viktor as her first boyfriend!!_

_"And if I was," Ron said, raising his voice as he stood up from the table, "Hermione'd wind up with a houseful of duck-footed, pumpkin-headed git-babies who can't even pronounce her _name_ correctly!"_

_"Get out!" Hermione's father yelled, standing up and pointing towards the front door, "Get out and never darken our doorstep with your presence ever again!!"_

_"Don't worry!" Ron yelled right back, advancing towards the front door without even looking back at Hermione, "You'll never see me again!!"_

"NOOOO!!" Hermione screamed, sitting up in bed, her wild mane of hair falling down to cover her face in a waterfall of fly-away chestnut curls. She looked around and realized she was in her room at _The Dingo's Durry_, and it had all been a bad dream. And a stupid dream at that!

Dinner with Ron and her parents would never go like that, and she knew it. Her parents might be a little rough on him, since he _was_ her boyfriend and they were so serious now, but she knew her father would never act so terrible.

Hermione pulled herself out of bed and checked the clock on the nightstand. She had about two hours before she was supposed to meet Viktor and Mal for dinner. She scowled visibly at the thought. Dinner with the two of them was definitely _not_ how she wanted to spend her night. It would be nice to catch up with Viktor, since she had no idea what happened to him after the chaos of Bill and Fleur's wedding, but she could tell spending time with him was going to come back and bite her in the end. She could just feel it.

She moved over to the old desk across the room and pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill. Maybe if she wrote a letter to Ron, she'd feel better, and would be better able to handle dinner with the two men.

As she gave the letter to Denny, the innkeeper to mail for her, Hermione realized that writing the letter _did_ make her feel a little better, although it didn't curb the absence she felt in her very soul at being apart from Ron. It always felt like he was the very best part of her, and being away from him made her feel empty inside. It was _not_ a feeling she relished.

With a mournful sigh, Hermione heaved herself out of her desk chair and made her way to the loo attached to her room. A nice hot shower might make her feel better, and she would need to shower anyway before heading out to dinner with Mal and Viktor.

Hermione was not about to get all dolled up for Viktor bleedin' Krum and Malcolm ruddy Majeebers. She chose a sensible blouse and pair of slacks. She had been tempted to wear one of Ron's old Weasley jumpers that he'd given her after outgrowing it, but as much as that would make her feel like she was close to Ron, it definitely wouldn't look proper at a nice restaurant.

Mal and Viktor were waiting for her when she came down the steps into the inn's public room. Both men smiled at her when they saw Hermione descend the stairs, but where Mal's smile was friendly, Viktor's was wolfish and predatory. The Bulgarian made his way quickly to Hermione and took her hand, bowing down to kiss it quickly, but holding onto her hand after the kiss.

"You look vunderful as alvays, Herm-own-ninny," Viktor said as he gazed longingly at her with his deep, dark eyes, "I haff truly missed your lufliness."

"Thank you, Viktor," Hermione said, trying not to blush as she pulled her hand away from him. She moved quickly towards Mal, hoping that in his presence, Viktor would stop being so forward with her. She doubted it, but there was always hope. "So where are we having dinner?"

Dinner, while lovely, was a nightmare. The restaurant, _Botanique_, was the finest restaurant in Canberra's wizarding community, and the food was wonderful. However, between Viktor's flirting and constant attempts to ply her with elderflower wine and Ice vodka, the incessant flashes from the team photographer's ever-present camera, Mal's constant chatter about Quidditch, and the hounding autograph seekers, Hermione had less than an enjoyable time.

Upon leaving the restaurant, Mal insisted on walking back to the inn with Hermione and Viktor, despite several disgruntled glances from the Bulgarian. Once inside the inn, however, after Mal said goodnight and Disapparated to his own home, Viktor insisted on walking Hermione to her room and she reluctantly agreed…they were friends, after all. Of course, she had a sneaky suspicion that this was going to blow up in her face.

"Thank you for dinner," Hermione said conversationally as they made their way to her room, "It was…memorable."

"You're velcome, Herm-own-ninny," Viktor replied, gazing at her predatorily, "It vas my pleasure to giff you someting you cannot haff vit Rom."

"His _name_ is _Ron_!" Hermione snapped as they reached her door, knowing full well what Viktor was playing at and not liking it one bit, "And what are you implying, Viktor?"

"_Ron_," Viktor said, moving close to her, backing her against her door and placing a hand on either side of her head so as to pin her between himself and the door, "Ron is poor, yes? Unable to giff you the finer tings, like dinner at an expensive restaurant. I haff seen his family's squalor at Fleur's vedding. That is not for you, Herm-own-ninny."

"How dare you!" she snapped, "The Weasleys are the most wonderful family I have ever known!"

"They are paupers," he replied with a cold glint in his dark eyes, "You deserff better. You deserff a man who can giff you tings, take you places."

"Like who, Viktor, _you_?!" Hermione was beside herself. She could smell the wine and vodka on his breath, but drunk or not, his behavior right now was inexcusable.

"I vould treat you like a princess, Herm-own-ninny," he said in a husky voice, leaning in closer to her.

Hermione placed both of her hands against Viktor's chest and shoved as hard as she could. He was leaning in to try and kiss her, she was sure, and that was not something she _ever_ wanted to happen.

"Get away from me, Viktor!" she shouted, not caring if she disturbed any of the other guests in the inn, "I can't believe I used to defend you whenever Ron would badmouth you, and it turns out he was right this whole time. You _are_ nothing but a great big _git_!"

Hermione rushed into her room, slamming the door and locking it behind her. She rushed over to the bed and threw herself down, crying into the pillow. Viktor was her friend, but how could she be friends with someone who said those things about the Weasleys and about Ron?

The Weasleys weren't just the most wonderful family she'd ever known, they were _her_ family! Molly and Arthur were the surrogate parents she so desperately needed when her own parents just couldn't understand her new life in the wizarding world. Ginny was the closest thing to a sister Hermione would ever have. And even though she wasn't particularly close with them, she knew that all the Weasley boys looked out for her.

Of course, the Weasley brothers' protectiveness may have had something to do with the fact that she was Ron's girlfriend. Ron…it had taken them a long time to get where they were, and it was often times a bumpy road, but now that he was hers, now that she _knew_ he loved her and they were together, she couldn't be happier. Oh, how she missed him; how she wished she were in his arms right now. She sobbed his name pitifully as she cried herself to sleep.

_"Ron…"_

_"Hush, 'Mione, I'm here."_

_She felt a gentle hand move through her mane of wild chestnut hair, stroking the back of her head so softly it sent a tingle through her entire body. She looked up into the most brilliant sapphire blue eyes as the man she loved…her Ron…smiled down at her with that smile that always made her knees weak._

_"I'll always be here for you," he said to her in the sweetest voice she'd ever heard, "I'm a part of you, y'know?"_

_She sat up and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest and taking in his scent. She loved the way he smelled…it was what she smelled in Slughorn's Sixth Year Potions class. For her, the Amortentia potion would always smell like fresh cut grass, crisp new parchment, and Ron._

_"I love you, Ron," she sobbed, her voice muffled by the muscles of his chest, "Only you…always you."_

_"I know, love," he said, planting a kiss on the top of her head, "No duck-footed, pumpkin-headed, git-babies for you!"_

_"No," she laughed, looking up at him, her tear-filled brown eyes gazing deep into the sapphire pools that seemed to look straight into her very soul, "Only beautiful, freckle-faced, redheaded babies. Lots of them."_

_"With wonderful, frizzy hair," he added, once more running his fingers through her chestnut locks. He had always loved her hair, even when she hated it. It was just one more thing she loved about Ron Weasley._

_"And beautiful blue eyes," she countered, enjoying this little game they seemed to be playing, describing their future babies._

_"I don't know," he said, looking serious, "I'm kind of partial to big brown eyes, myself."_

_"With their father's heart," she said, blushing slightly as she rested her head against his shoulder, loving the feel of his arms around her._

_"And their mother's brains," he once more added, rubbing his hand in gentle circles across her back._

_"I love you, Ron," she sighed contentedly, closing her eyes._

_"I love you, too, 'Mione," he said softly, his lips close to her ear causing her to tingle, "Always and forever."_

Hermione spent the next two days locked in her room. Viktor would come by periodically and bang on her door to try and get her to talk to him, but she ignored him, eventually casting a Silence Charm on the door so he wouldn't disturb her no matter how hard he banged on it.

She spent her time writing letters to the people who mattered in her life: Harry, Ginny, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and of course, Ron. She even wrote a letter to Professor McGonagall, telling her favorite teacher that she would be attending Hogwarts in the fall for her Seventh Year, and thanking the current Headmistress for the opportunity to finish her education.

When Sunday rolled around, her nerves once again set in. She received an owl from Majeebers around noon, telling her that they would meet at four o'clock to go and see her parents. A small delegation from the Ministry and a couple of healers from the local magical hospital would be coming along in case there were any problems.

Hermione shuddered to think about what sort of problems they might be coming along to prevent. Maybe the Memory Charms would leave her parents brain damaged if they were reversed after so long a time. Maybe the shock of finding out what she had done to them would cause them to have a heart attack. Maybe…

She couldn't take the pain of the what-if scenarios she was running through her mind, so before she wound up laying in the fetal position, crying her eyes out all day, Hermione decided to turn her attention to making herself presentable to see her parents after a year's separation.

After a nice long shower, she took to doing her hair. Using a significant amount of Sleakeazy's Hair Potion, she got her wild mane under control and done up in a fashionable bun. It took a while without the aid of Ginny Weasley that she'd had for the Yule Ball, but when she was done, she was very happy with the results.

Next, she slipped on the dark blue dress she'd brought with her with this sole purpose in mind. It was her father's favorite color, and although it wasn't the sapphire blue of Ron's eyes, the fact that it _was_ blue made her think of him and feel safe and warm, almost as much as she would wrapped in his arms.

She then put on the silver locket her mother had given her for her sixteenth birthday. It had originally belonged to her great-grandmother, and was traditionally passed down from mother to daughter. The locket brought her a lot of joy, not just because it was a family heirloom…a tangible piece of her mother that she could keep with her wherever she went…but because of the small photograph inside the locket; the small, moving picture of the ginger-haired boy with stunning blue eyes who owned her heart.

It was nearly four when she was finished getting ready and she hurried downstairs to find Mal once more waiting for her. He smiled and told her how nice she looked and asked her if she was ready to once again meet her parents. She nervously nodded her head and he whisked her out the door.

They left Bunyip Plaza and met up with a group of people waiting by a pair of black sedans. The Ministry cars looked just like Muggle automobiles so as to not draw too much attention, but were roomier inside and faster than ordinary Muggle cars. The cars would be a necessity, since Apparating into an all-Muggle neighborhood was a good way to cause a panic and would lead to mountains of paperwork.

Wendell and Monica Wilkins lived in a nice, middle-class neighborhood just outside of Sydney. This came as no surprise to Hermione, as her parents had always enjoyed the theatre and live music, and the Sydney Opera House would've drawn them to the city like moths to a flame.

The trip from Canberra went by quickly, thanks to the enchantments on the Ministry vehicles, and in a short while, the cars pulled up outside a small white house with an impeccable front yard. Hermione and Mal got out first and made their way to the front door, while the rest of the Ministry people waited by the cars, using a Disillusionment charm to keep themselves hidden from prying eyes.

Hermione knocked on the door, trying to get the butterflies in her stomach (or were they hippogriffs?) to settle down. The door opened, and Hermione almost fainted. Her father stood in the doorway, looking quizzically at the two strangers standing on his front stoop.

"Can I help you?" he asked looking from Hermione to Mal and back again.

"Daddy…?"

**-- End Chapter 13 --**

**Author's End Notes:** Yes, another solo Hermione chapter, although if you count the two dream sequences, Ron was there, too!

I'm currently re-writing Ch. 14 so it doesn't suck, but with any luck it'll still be up as scheduled tomorrow.

* * *


	14. ReOpening

**Author's Notes:** I had to re-write this chapter yesterday because, frankly, I thought it sucked. And if I thought it sucked, there was no way in Hell I was gonna post it for anybody to read! I added some stuff, I got rid of some stuff, and I made it definitely less sucky. I'm happy with it...happy enough to post it. I hope it meets with your approval.

I want to thank everybody who reads my story, and especially everyone who has ever sent me a review (**Edinburgh Love**, **Ann Malfoy**, **Cantletharrygo**, **CutewithAcapital-Q**, **fatyellowrat**, **Avanell**, **Dizzy0305**, **katie1985**, **Elytha**, **Trude**, **mugglemama**, **emmy1124**, **Emma.Jane-HPfan**, **Moony3005**, **IsI Wisi**, **Lady Anja**, **embergrl9010**, **the written princess**, **MissFinnegan**, **Tiffany M**, and **kareem33**). You taking the time to review means a lot to me, which is why I reply to all the reviews I get.

I'd like to give **CutewithAcapital-Q** my undying gratitude for her encouraging words, "Chapter 14 better not SUCK!" Hehehehe! Let's hope it doesn't.

"Aftermath" is rated M for language and naughty stuff.

**Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling owns this stuff.

* * *

"**Aftermath"**

**Chapter 14 -- Re-Opening**

By the time Saturday rolled around, Ron was exhausted. He and George had been working day and night to get Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes ready for it's grand re-opening, and that basically meant that Ron did all the grunt work while George supervised. Ron grumbled about under his breath about it, but never let George hear. He was just happy to have his older brother out of the house and actually doing something with his time instead of drinking and sleeping his life away.

Ron had slept through his alarm clock, but the ghoul in the attic made sure that he was awake; banging on pipes, moaning and groaning, and dropping a large crate of what sounded like pots and pans onto the floor right above his head. Needless to say, Ron was not exactly cheerful when he hauled himself out of bed.

Harry was already gone by the time Ron got up. The two had been avoiding each other somewhat after the blow-up over Harry offering to give Ron the money for Hermione's ring. Ron just shrugged it off, however, as he made his way down to the bathroom for his morning shower. With any luck, there'd still be hot water.

Luck was, indeed, on Ron's side, and he managed a nice, hot shower. On his way back to his attic bedroom, he decided to check on George to make sure he, too, was awake and ready for the shop's re-opening. He found him in his bedroom, standing in front of the mirror, putting on a purple tie with three golden W's embroidered on it.

"You're wearing a tie?" Ron asked from the doorway, his face looking more than a bit worried, "You're not expecting _me_ to dress up for this, are you?"

"Nonsense, Ronniekins," George said as he finished tying the knot, complete with a handsome dimple.

_"We're the proprietors,"_ the Fred voice said in George's head.

"Of a successful joke shop," George continued.

_"While you, ickle Ronnie…"_

"Are merely the employee!"

_"We must look the part…"_

"While _you_ can look the prat!"

_"Nicely put, brother dear!"_

"Why thank you, Fred!"

_"Not at all…"_

"Pip-pip!"

_"Cheerio!"_

Ron stood in the doorway looking agog at his brother. George had gone barmy. There was no other explanation for it. He was talking to himself more and more lately, acting like Fred was still right there beside him. Luckily no one else in the family had spent much time around George in the last few days, or Ron was sure they would have sent him off to St. Mungo's mental ward.

Ron really didn't know what to do. He seriously doubted his family was prepared for this. Ron had been hoping that opening up the shop again would get George over his depression; instead it seemed to have driven him around the bend. Ron hurried upstairs to get dressed, intent on finding Harry before he and George left, hoping that his best mate might be able to given him some advice.

Of course, Ron would have to apologize, first. And he really hated apologizing. But if his brother's sanity was on the line, and the happiness of his already fractured family was at risk, Ron would swallow his pride and do what he had to do.

Dressing quickly in a polo shirt and trousers, Ron hurried downstairs in search of Harry Potter. There was no sign of him in the kitchen, although Ron did manage to knick a piece of toast and some sausages that had been set aside for someone. He went out into the garden hoping to find Harry, but again, there was no sign of him. Something did, however, catch Ron's gaze as he walked out into the Saturday morning sunshine.

Ron slowly walked over to Fred's grave marker as a memory came to the forefront of his mind. He recalled seeing George sitting out here, the morning after the funeral, quietly talking to himself as he sat in front of Fred's grave. It was shortly after that that Ron noticed George talking to himself. Running a hand roughly through his red locks, Ron gazed down at Fred's grave marker.

_**Frederick Weasley**_

_**1 April 1978 – 2 May 1998**_

_**Beloved Son and Brother**_

_**A void in our hearts we cannot fill**_

Ron sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. He'd heard about talking to gravestones, but never put much stock in it. He had a hard enough time expressing his feelings (except anger) to real, live people; trying to express them to the dead seemed…foolish.

"Fred?" Ron spoke very softly, turning back to look at the house, wanting to make sure no one was watching him, "I don't know if you're out there, Fred, or if you can hear me…but, then, I'm pretty thick, so I don't know most things, right?"

Ron chuckled nervously and sighed once again before continuing to speak to his dead brother.

"I've seen George out here talking to you, Fred, so I'm sure you know about me and Hermione and about the war being over, so I won't bother you with that. It's George I need to talk to you about. I need your help, Fred."

Ron slowly crouched down and wiped a bit of dirt off the grave marker.

"George isn't right in the head right now, Fred. He keeps talking to you like you're still there…like you're still alive. I'm worried that he's gonna be locked away in a mental ward for the rest of his life. Do you know what that would do to Mum…to have to lock away one of her own kids?!"

Ron stood again, as a stern look darkened his face.

"I've seen George out here talking to you, Fred. So, if this is you doing this…somehow talking to George, making him think you're still with us…with _him_...I want…I _need_ you to stop, Fred. We've all got to move on…especially George."

The stern look slowly washed away from Ron's face, replaced with a pleading, imploring expression.

"If you're not the one driving him nutters, Fred, then I need you to help him. I don't know what you can do…but if you can do anything…please help George get through this. I'm trying, but we all know I'm a poor replacement for you. Plus, I'm rubbish at all this feelings business. That's why it's taken me seven years to tell Hermione that I love her."

Ron felt a pang in his chest at the mention of Hermione. Oh how he missed her. He wished he could be with her right now, but today he had other responsibilities. There'd be time for Hermione later; today was about his family.

"Y'know, Fred, I don't think I ever told you that I loved you. I do, y'know. I guess it's a good thing I can't hear you wherever you are, cuz I know you'd be taking the mickey out of me right now. Take care of yourself, Fred…and please do what you can to help me with George."

Ron turned and started walking back towards the house, sure that it must be getting close to the time for him and George to head over to Diagon Alley for the shop's re-opening. He turned back briefly to Fred's grave, a lopsided grin on his lips.

"And if you're up there looking down on Voldemort in whatever Hell he's in…toss a couple dungbombs at him for me and tell the great manky bastard to sod off!"

Ron made his way back up to the house and into the kitchen. Once there, he found his best friend sitting at the table eating a bowl of porridge. The tall redhead stopped in his tracks for a moment, realizing that this was his opportunity to apologize to Harry for snapping at him the other day.

Ron stood there, mouth opening and closing like a fish for over a minute, trying to make the words come out. It was like Fourth Year all over again. Before Ron could make his mouth actually form the words he was trying to say, Harry spoke first.

"You always stand outside talking to yourself in morning?" Harry didn't look up from his porridge, but there was a slight curl at the corner of his mouth, as if he was trying not to smile. Ron saw it though, and fought the urge to smile, too.

"Well, who else am I going to have an intelligent conversation with?" Ron jibed, crossing his arms in mock sternness, "My girlfriend's in Australia and my best mate won't talk to me."

"Must have been a pretty limited conversation," the Boy-Who-Lived mocked, "Once you exhausted Quidditch, wizard's chess, and how to piss off your girlfriend, you must have run out of things to talk about."

"Like you're one of the world's great conversationalists," the redhead snorted, "I've seen the sort of _conversations_ you have with Ginny. Your mouths are engaged, but no words are coming out."

"You're just jealous," Harry said, looking up at him with a smile.

"Of you snogging my sister?!" Ron's face twisted into a look of disgust, "Eww! Not even close."

"Fair enough," Harry replied, looking back down at his porridge.

Ron slowly moved to the table and took a seat as the two friends were engulfed once again by silence. The silence seemed to go on forever, but in reality it only lasted a couple of minutes. When the silence was broken, it was done so by the two friends speaking at the exact same time.

"I'm sorry."

"Bloody Hell, Harry, what are _you_ apologizing for?" Ron looked at him quizzically.

"For offering to lend you the money to buy Hermione's ring," Harry explained, looking sheepish. He hoped _reminding_ Ron of why he was mad at him wouldn't set Ron off again.

"That's a pretty stupid thing to be sorry for, Harry," Ron snorted.

"Well it's a pretty stupid thing to get pissed at your best mate for, too!" Harry snapped, causing Ron to look taken aback.

"Fair point," Ron said, glumly looking down at his hands, "I'm sorry for that, Harry…for blowing up at you like that…and for calling you a poncey git bastard."

"You never called me that," Harry said, shaking his head.

"Well no…not to your face."

The two friends sat there looking at each other with blank expressions on their faces. Soon, the corners of their mouths started to turn up into identical grins and moments later both young men were breaking out into peals of laughter.

"Seriously, though, mate," Ron said as the laughter between them died down and their brief crack in their friendship was repaired, "I don't think you understand why I need to do this without your help."

"Actually," Harry replied, stopping Ron from going into a long, drawn-out explanation that would doubtless be uncomfortable for one or both of them, "Ginny explained it to me. So I get it."

"She did?" Ron looked shocked. He didn't think anybody understood why he had to do this on his own (not counting the minor help George had been, giving him a job). He'd have to have a talk with his sister later and see just what it was that she'd told Harry. "So we're good?"

"Never better, mate," Harry said, beaming a smile at him.

Ron smiled back. He was just about to bring up the subject of George when, speak of the devil, the sole surviving proprietor of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes walked down the stairs and into the kitchen.

"'Morning lads!" George exclaimed, all smiles as he entered the room.

_"It appears they've kissed and made up!"_

"Indeed it does!"

"Indeed it does _what_, George?" Harry asked, looking confused.

"Nothing!" Ron exclaimed, jumping up from his seat and grabbing George by the arm, "Come on, George, let's go!"

"Absolutely, Ronniekins!" George said, moving outside with his younger brother.

_"Off to the shop!!"_

"To plunder the masses!"

_"And amass the plunder!!"_

"Brilliant!"

_"Indeed!!"_

"Can we go already?!" Ron snapped, losing his temper at the way George's mental state seemed to be degenerating.

"Of course, Ronniekins," George said, taking out his wand and preparing to Disapparate. He turned on his spot and with an audible _pop_, George was gone.

Ron cast a final glance over to Fred's grave, "Just a little help here, Fred!" Wand took out his wand before imitating George's movements and with a loud _crack_, Ron, too, was gone.

Harry cast a confused glance out the window as one by one, George and Ron disappeared. George was acting weird…weirder than usual. And he was awfully chipper considering how depressed he was just a few short days ago. There was definitely something going on with George and Ron seemed to be in on it. He would have to talk to Ron about it when he saw him later.

Harry became lost in thought as he pondered just what exactly could be going on with George and how Ron was involved. He soon came back to reality, however, as he was forced to throw himself out of the way as a determined tawny owl came through the window flying straight at Harry's head. The owl alighted on a nearby cupboard and gave Harry a cranky look with its huge yellow eyes. It screeched at him and tapped its talons on the old weathered wood in annoyance, a letter tied to its leg.

"Mail!"

* * *

When Ron and George reached Number 93 Diagon Alley, the premises of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, there was already a line formed at the front door of the shop, waiting for it to open. As George opened the doors and the customers began swarming inside, Ron recognized several familiar faces from Hogwarts, including his former roommates.

Throngs of small children (possible First Years at Hogwarts come the fall?) rushed around the store, thrilled and amazed at the variety of products available within the shop. Ron kept a stern eye on the youngsters, warning the midgets (as he so endearingly called them) that if they got too rambunctious, he would personally "kick their mad-alecky bums right out the door"!

All-in-all, it seemed as if Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes was as popular as ever before. It was a perfect time for the joke shop to be back in business. The war was over, school was out, and the summer was just about to begin; many, many people…both young and old alike…were in a mood to celebrate, and Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes were a perfect way to celebrate.

Ron, George, Verity, and even Lee Jordan were doing their best to keep up with the flow of customers demanding authentic Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Ron wasn't exactly surprised at the fact that he was seeing a lot of familiar faces from his days at Hogwarts, but he was slightly surprised that so many of them were smiling; that people had a reason to smile after everything that had happened.

Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas, best friends for as long as Ron had known them, were there, picking up various tricks and jokes of the twins' devious design. Both were smiling and joking, but the smiles never seemed to reach Seamus' eyes; Ron couldn't help but wonder if that was because of Lavender Brown current condition at St. Mungo's.

Lavender had yet to recover from wounds received during the Battle of Hogwarts when she was attacked by the bloodthirsty werewolf Fenrir Greyback. She would live, but the effects of being bitten by the crazed werewolf were not yet known. It could be something as simple as a craving for extremely rare meat, such as with Ron's brother, Bill, or it could be as horrible as her becoming a werewolf just like Greyback. Only time would tell.

Neville Longbottom was there with Luna Lovegood. There were those who thought that something romantic might be developing between the two of them – they'd been very close friends ever since Fifth Year and the battle at the Department of Mysteries – but as yet they just appeared to be friends.

Ron spent as much time chatting with his old friends as he did helping the customers. Luckily, George seemed to be enjoying himself so much as he, too, chatted with old friends, that he didn't even notice when Ron wasn't actually paying attention to doing his job.

The entire Gryffindor Quidditch team during George's time at Hogwarts had come by, even Oliver Wood who should've been at a Puddlemere United practice since the British Quidditch season was set to start next month. Quidditch had been outright shut down during Voldemort's reign, and after a year without it, fans were anxious to be overcome with Quidditch fever once again.

After twelve straight hours of selling authentic Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes products to hundreds and hundreds of clamoring customers, it was time to go home. Ron was exhausted all he wanted to do was go home and go to bed. George, however, was chipper as ever and instead of going home for a duly earned night of rest opted to go out with his old Quidditch team.

"George, come on," Ron pleaded, "You've got to be tired."

"Nonsense, Ronniekins," George laughed, waving him off, "The night is young!"

_"And so are we!"_

"And so are the ladies!!" George smiled, waggling his eyebrows.

Unable to talk George out of it, and trusting that George's old Quidditch mates wouldn't let him get too out of control, Ron sighed in resignation and Disapparated back to the Burrow.

When Ron returned to the Burrow that night, so tired he didn't even bother stopping off in the kitchen for some dinner, he hadn't been expecting to find a pair of letters sitting on his bed. He was tempted to just toss them aside, flop face first into bed, and go to sleep without so much as taking off his shoes. However, the handwriting on the top envelope drew his attention.

"'Mione?!"

Ron sat heavily upon his bed, causing it to creak with his weight. He picked up the envelope addressed in Hermione's neatly flowing script. He gazed at the way she wrote his name for several moments before bringing it up to his face and sniffing it. If he closed his eyes and concentrated, he could just make out a hint of Hermione's perfume lingering on the parchment. He imagined her sitting next to him, their hands intertwined, their lips about to meet…

"Ron?"

Ron snapped out of his daydream and looked up at his best friend. Harry had come walking into the room they shared while Ron was busy in his closed-eyed daydream.

"All right there, Ron?" Harry asked as he sat down on his own bed and looked across at his friend, "You seemed like you were…I dunno…a million miles away or something."

"Not a million," Ron replied softly, "Just how ever far it is to Australia."

Harry nodded, understanding fully. Spending this time away from Hermione…after they finally got together…must be tearing his friend apart. He'd done a good job of keeping his pain a secret, however, throwing himself into his job at George's shop. Anyone who didn't know Ron as well as Harry did wouldn't have thought anything was different about the redhead. Harry knew better, though.

"She'll be back soon," Harry said, trying to be comforting. He then decided to change the subject, to see if he could get Ron thinking about something _other_ than Hermione, "I see you got your mail. The smaller one came just after you left for work this morning; the bigger one came just before supper."

"This one's from 'Mione," Ron sighed, showing Harry the smaller of the two envelopes. Harry rolled his eyes; _so much for taking his mind off Hermione!_ If he couldn't get Ron's mind off of his girlfriend, Harry knew he'd never be able to get him to explain what was going on with George.

Ron ripped open the envelope and began reading his girlfriend's letter.

_My Darling Ronald,_

_You have no idea how much I miss you. I keep looking around for that adorable head of red hair and those gorgeous blue eyes, and when I don't see them I miss you even more. One day, Ronald Weasley, we are going to be together and nothing will separate us._

_I haven't seen my parents yet, and I won't be seeing them until Sunday at the soonest…Monday at the latest. With that being said, I'm hoping to be home by this time next week. I know that seems a long time, but I promise you, Ron, that I will make our time apart up to you in what I hope will be a most enjoyable fashion for both of us._

_Australia would be a nice place to visit on a holiday…with someone special…but all I can think about is how much I want to return my parents' memories and return home to you._

_Please don't forget about me, Ron. I love you._

_All My Love,_

_(Your) 'Mione_

_xoxoxoxo_

_P.S._

_I really, really, really miss you._

_P.P.S._

_I really, really, really, really love you!_

Ron smiled as his finished reading Hermione's letter. He missed her terribly, but at least he knew that she was missing him, too. He'd been too engrossed in reading to notice Harry pulling faces at him. When he finally looked up to see Harry mocking him, Ron threw a pillow at him, slamming him in the face.

"Git!" Ron yelled, laughing at his best friend. He slid Hermione's note under his pillow, so he could read it again later. He picked up the second envelope and was a little baffled. There was no indication of who it was from and although he thought he recognized the handwriting, he wasn't completely sure. It was addressed to _R. Weakley_ care of the Burrow. He grimaced at someone's idea of a joke.

"So, what's that…another love letter from your _'Mione_?" Harry laughed, tossing the pillow back at Ron. Ron ducked to the side, so the pillow missed him, slamming harmlessly into the wall behind him, but his confused gaze remained on the envelope.

"I have no idea what this is or who it's from," Ron said, "Guess there's only one way to find out."

He ripped open the envelope and pulled out a letter and two photographs. Taking up the letter he tried to make heads-or-tails out of the scrunched, messy handwriting.

_Dear Rom Weakley,_

_I think you might like to know how your "girlfriend" Hermione Granger is spending her holiday in Australia. What I tell you might be difficult for you to believe, but the photographs I have included with this letter should prove that I am telling the truth._

_Hermione Granger is in love with me, not you. Her "holiday" to Australia was a lie she told you so that she could have a romantic weekend with me…the man she truly loves. She has been stringing you along because you are convenient, but her heart belongs to ME._

_Look at the photographs. It looks like she is enjoying her holiday away from you with her very good "friend" Viktor Krum. Did you really think we were just friends?_

_Perhaps she prefers the company of someone who can buy her the many things she deserves…things a pauper like you are unable to give her. You cannot compete with me._

_Viktor Krum_

Unable to believe what he was reading, Ron felt the color rising in his ears as he crumpled the letter and tossed it aside, quickly bringing the photographs up for inspection. Two wizard photos – complete with moving people – sat in his hands.

The first photograph showed Hermione in Viktor Krum's arms, receiving a bone-crushing bear hug and then being spun around as the ugly git of a Bulgarian smiled joyfully. They appeared to be in an inn somewhere with dozens of strangers looking on. A note on the back of the photo, scrawled in the same untidy hand as the letter, read: _Hermione and I are reunited._

The second photo was of Hermione and Viktor at what appeared to be an expensive restaurant. Viktor kept leaning in to whisper something in Hermione's ear before passing her a glass of wine. The note on the back read: _Hermione and I enjoy an __expensive__ dinner._

"Motherfu--…!"

"RON!" Harry yelled in shock at his best mate's outburst. He was about to ask the enraged redhead what the problem was, but Ron crumpled the two photographs, threw them down onto the bed and stormed out of the room.

Wondering just what it was the set his best friend off, Harry moved across to Ron's bed and picked up the letter and the two crumpled photographs. Reading the letter quickly, a quizzical look popping up on his face, he did his best to un-crumple the photographs, goggling in shock as he looked at them.

Harry jumped up off the bed and ran after his best mate, calling for him as he went, unsure of what Ron would do, but positive that it wouldn't be a good thing.

"Ron…I'm sure this isn't what it looks like!!"

* * *

Arthur Weasley had been sitting quietly with his wife in his arms, rocking her gently as they sat on their bed. She was crying once again as she looked through an old family photo album, reliving the days when her children were all alive and healthy and the war hadn't stolen one of her babies from her.

"It's going to be alright, Mollywobbles," Arthur said, softly, kissing her cheek, ignoring the saltiness of her tears, "We're going to get through this."

"I miss him, Arthur," she sobbed, "He was such a good boy…and all I ever did was yell. I'm such a horrible mother."

"That's enough of that," Arthur said, a touch of sternness in his voice, "You're a wonderful mother, not only to our own children, but to Harry and Hermione as well. They love you, and they know that you love them."

"But Fred…"

"Fred knew it, too, Molly. He knew you loved him, and he knew you were proud of the businessman he'd become…knew you were proud of the _man_ he'd become."

Molly broke down fully now, her body wracked with sobs as she buried her face in her husband's chest, weeping for the baby boy she'd lost and the babies she was still blessed enough to have alive and well. For the seventh night in a row, Molly Weasley cried herself to sleep in the gentle embrace of her loving husband.

It took him a few minutes to do so, but eventually Arthur managed to get Molly safely tucked into bed, placing the photo album once more on the nightstand next to their bed. He ran a calloused finger over the book, mottled with tear stains. The words _Weasley Family Memories_ stood out in gilt letters upon the leather.

Arthur sighed, wiping tears from his own eyes as he went about readying himself for bed. He'd just slipped into his old, worn pajamas when there was a soft, but determined knock on the door. He turned back to look at his wife, making sure she was still asleep before he moved to answer the door.

"Ron?" Arthur seemed surprised at the sight of his youngest son standing at the door, a frantic look on his face, his jaw firmly set, dark circles under his eyes.

"Dad…I need to get to Australia…_now_!"

"Ronald…what is this all about?" Arthur asked as he slipped into the hall next to his son and quietly closed his bedroom door, "Australia?"

"I need to go Dad, right now," Ron repeated desperately, "It's Hermione…I…I _have_ to go!"

"Is she in danger, Ron?" Arthur asked, growing concerned, "Do I need to alert the Order?"

"No…she's not in danger exactly," Ron said, running a frustrated hand through his messy red hair, "It's just…I really need to see her, Dad. I have to talk to her about…something."

"I'm sorry, Ronald," his father said compassionately, placing a comforting hand on his son's shoulder, "There's really nothing I can do for you tonight. Setting up an international Floo connection can only be handled by the Floo Network Authority, and they won't be open until Monday morning."

"But this is an emergency!" Ron exclaimed, doing his best not to raise his voice since he knew his mother was on the other side of the door, sleeping.

"Ron, I'm sorry, but it's the weekend," Mr. Weasley said, frowning as it seemed obvious his son would not relent, "The Ministry offices are closed, and even if they were opened for an emergency, you needing to talk to your girlfriend is not enough reason to rush the paperwork for an international Floo. Perhaps you should just owl her, and then we'll see if we can't set up a Floo call for you to speak with her on Monday."

Ron was about to retort…angrily most likely…when Harry came bounding down the steps calling for him.

"Ron! Ron wait a minute," Harry called, running up to the two Weasleys standing in the hallway, "This can't be how it looks. Hermione wouldn't cheat on you."

"What?! Ronald!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed, unable to believe his ears. He gave his son a disapproving glare, "How could you ever think that darling girl would ever do such a thing?!"

"I never said Hermione was cheating on me," Ron grumbled in his defense, shooting an evil look at Harry, "All I said was that I need to _talk_ to her."

Before his father or Harry could say another word, Ron turned on his heel and stormed back up to his room. Mr. Weasley gave Harry a sympathetic look and Harry flashed an uncomfortable half-smile.

"Harry, what is this all about?" Mr. Weasley asked, putting a fatherly hand on the teen's shoulder.

"Ron got a letter from…somebody," Harry began explaining, not caring whether or not Ron would want his father to know about this, "The letter had some pictures of Hermione and…Viktor Krum…together…in Australia."

"Oh dear…"

* * *

Ron slammed the door shut as he tromped back into his bedroom. He grabbed the photos of Hermione and Viktor Bloody Krum off his bed, noticing they were now un-crumpled – _no doubt thanks to Harry_, Ron thought – and glared at the first one he'd seen…the one of Hermione and the great Bulgarian pumpkin-head in the inn.

His father couldn't help him, and Ron knew he'd never make it all the way to Australia on his Cleansweep. There _was_ one other way…but it was risky; _he-could-die_ risky. He concentrated on the background of the photograph – concentrated on the inn – ignoring Hermione and Krum and all the people. If he was going to do this…if he was going to _survive_ doing this, Ron had to have an absolute clear picture in his head…a clear picture of his destination.

Truthfully, Ron had no idea if this would even work…if it _could_ even work. Still, he had to see Hermione…had to talk to her. Tomorrow was Sunday…the shop was closed. He could go to Australia, talk to Hermione, and still be back in time for work Monday morning.

Ron gathered up the letter and the second photo, folding them carefully and tucking them in his pocket. He then grabbed his wand and stared deeply into the photo with the inn, concentrating on the inn…on the space two feet in front of the bar…the nice, vacant spot.

_"Deliberation, Determination, Destination,"_ Ron repeated in his head as he concentrated on that spot in the photograph. Taking out his wand, he closed his eyes, picturing that location in the inn. Turning on the spot, Ron Disapparated with a loud _crack_ just as the door to his bedroom opened and a stunned Harry Potter walked through the door.

**-- End Chapter 14 --**

**Author's End Notes: **Well, I guess I'll leave it to you to decide whether this chapter sucked or not. Ch. 15 will be up tomorrow as scheduled.


	15. The Unexpected

**A/N: **It seems my re-write of Ch. 14 went over pretty well...judging by the reviews. I'm glad to hear it. Here's Ch. 15, and it's an Australia chapter. Hopefully, my dialogue isn't too stereotypical. I realized that in my first Australia chapter I overdid the coloquialisms trying my best to give the impression it was Australia instead of just Britain a written by an American. Here's hoping the kinks have been worked out.

I also want to apologize to anyone who thinks I'm making Viktor Krum into too much of a jerk/git/bastard. It has been said (by someone whose opinion I value) that my ill feelings towards the man have shown through in my writing. I'm sure I'm guilty of this, and I apologize to anyone who thinks my version of Krum isn't...Krummy...enough.

Thanks to everyone who's been faithfully reading this story since its inception two weeks ago (well, 11 days ago). And of course, special thanks to those of you who have taken time out of your busy schedule to review my work (**Edinburgh Love**, **Ann Malfoy**, **Cantletharrygo**, **CutewithAcapital-Q**, **fatyellowrat**, **Avanell**, **Dizzy0305**, **katie1985**, **Elytha**, **Trude**, **mugglemama**, **emmy1124**, **Emma.Jane-HPfan**, **Moony3005**, **IsI Wisi**, **Lady Anja**, **embergrl9010**, **the written princess**, **MissFinnegan**, **Tiffany M**, **kareem33**, and** randomguy1517**). Many of you have reviewed multiple times (some with each chapter) and I appreciate that so very much!

"Aftermath" is rated M for language and naughty stuff.

**Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter and his entire universe.

* * *

**"Aftermath"**

**Chapter 15 -- The Unexpected**

"Bloody Hell!"

That very phrase was muttered by two people at the exact same moment, as a loud _crack_ resounded through the very empty common room of _The Dingo's Durry_ and a tall, red-haired young man appeared out of nowhere.

The first "Bloody Hell" was courtesy of that very same young man as he crashed to the floor of the inn as he was overcome by a wave of nausea and proceeded to be sick all over the floor. Ron Weasley had never attempted to Apparate to the other side of the planet before…and he wasn't sure he would ever want to try again. Black spots started to burst behind his eyes, and the last thing he saw before passing out was a plump man in an apron running towards him.

The second "Bloody Hell" came from a short, plump balding man who was in the process of preparing his inn for the morning rush. The loud _crack_ had startled him to the point of nearly jumping out of his shoes. Denny O'Doyle wasn't expecting anyone to come Apparating into the inn as he was about to make breakfast… and as he ran around the bar to see who had just appeared, he definitely wasn't expecting the person to get sick all over his nice, clean…okay, mostly clean…floor.

"Holy Dooley, lad, are you alright?" Denny called as he knelt next to the redheaded intruder. When Ron didn't respond, the innkeeper started to fret. "Let's get you off the floor, lad, reckon that'll help some!"

With that, Mr. O'Doyle whipped out his wand and cast a Mobilicorpus spell, lifting Ron off the floor. He took Ron's floating body out through the back of the bar into the quarters he shared with his wife. Laying the unconscious redhead down on their bed, Denny went off in search of his wife.

* * *

Ron Weasley's head was swimming in darkness. He wasn't sure how long the darkness had consumed him, but the wonderful thing about the darkness was that he was nice and numb. It wasn't until he felt something brushing the hair out of his face, grazing lightly against his forehead that Ron actually felt anything…and as soon as he started feeling it, the darkness started to recede.

Ron groaned and opened his eyes to little more than a pair of slits. His head was pounding, he couldn't focus on anything, and all he knew was that wherever he was, it was daylight. He tried to move, but he was too weak. The plump woman sitting on the bed next to him moved the hair out of his face and gently patted his forehead with a cool, damp cloth.

"Try not to move, deary," the Gertie O'Doyle said softly, "You need your rest."

Ron mumbled something unintelligible, closing his eyes once again and slowly drifting back towards the darkness. The woman smiled down at her "patient". This redheaded intruder who just dropped into their laps was quite the mystery. He'd been unconscious for hours, and they were no closer to knowing who he was or why he was here.

"You just lie back and rest," she said softly, moving a hand down to gently caress his cheek, "We're not sure where you came from, but it must surely have been a long way, judging by the way you collapsed."

"'Mione…" Ron groaned, his voice a hoarse, cracking whisper.

"Your knee?" Gertie O'Doyle looked away from the young man's face, looking down at his long legs, "Did you injure your knee when you landed, deary?"

Gertie moved down towards Ron's legs, moving the legs of his pants up to look for any injuries he might have incurred when he Apparated into the bar early that morning. His pale skin was devoid of any outward signs of injury, and Mrs. O'Doyle found herself confused as to what he had meant when he mentioned his knee.

Gertie clucked her tongue and returned to her seat near his head, once again dabbing at his forehead with the damp washcloth, "Poor dear must be delirious. You just get some rest, deary, and let old Gertie tend to you."

Whether he actually heard Mrs. O'Doyle's words or not is a mystery, as he quickly faded off into a troubled sleep, tossing and turning and grumbling about his knees.

* * *

Malcolm Majeebers and Hermione Granger walked up the concrete path to the small, white house. Noting her anxiety, Mal put a hand on her elbow, helping to guide her and support her should she need it. They reached the forest green door and Hermione knocked, trying to get the butterflies in her stomach to settle down.

Several minutes passed before the door opened, revealing a man in his forties with salt-and-pepper hair and dark brown eyes. He looked quizzically at the two strangers standing on his front stoop, wondering what it was they could possibly want on fine Sunday afternoon such as this.

"Can I help you?" he asked looking from Hermione to Mal and back again.

Mal was just opening his mouth, about to lay out the cover story that he'd arranged that would get the two of them inside the house so that the spells could be cast that would bring about the return of the Grangers' memories, when Hermione spoke first.

"Daddy…?"

"I beg your pardon?!" the man looked at the young woman, more confused than ever. The girl looked distraught, and he feared that there must be something wrong with her that would cause this stranger to call him _Daddy_.

"Actually, sir, I reckon it's us should be beggin' your pardon," Mal spoke up quickly, trying to think of a way to cover up Hermione's faux pas that didn't involve brandishing his wand out in the open in the middle of a Muggle neighborhood and casting a spell on the man in front of him, "You see my…friend here is a tad bit…off…if you understand what I'm saying. The poor dear's spent the last ten years in a mental ward in Adelaide."

Hermione shot him an evil glare as he said this, but she was the one who had messed up, so she had no choice but to go along with Mal as he played it by ear.

"She grew up here…in this very house," Mal said, deciding to weave a tale of tragedy and woe that should touch the heartstrings of Dr. Wendell Wilkins, DDS…at least long enough for them to get inside and turn him back into Dr. John Henry Granger, DDS, "Her parents died in a fire when she was just a little thing, and the trauma sent her 'round the bend."

"How terrible," the man said, looking at the young girl with utmost sympathy in his eyes. The look about brought Hermione to tears.

"It is…just dreadful," Majeebers continued, "But her doctors feel if she were to return to the scene of the tragedy, even for a few minutes, it might help her to cope with her parents' deaths…bring closure in a way…and possibly send her down a path towards recovery."

The dentist in front of them nodded knowingly, "I think I read about that technique in a medical journal. I'm a dentist, you see, so I like to keep up with breakthroughs in medicine…even if it doesn't directly impact my own chosen field."

"That's understandable," Mal agreed, willing to agree to anything the man said if it would get them in the door.

"Why did she call me 'Daddy' I wonder," Dr. Wilkins/Granger said, looking up and tapping his chin as he pondered the question at hand.

"Oh! Well…" Majeebers once more had to think on his feet, "The doctors said that might happen. See, in her head, she's still an eight-year-old little girl. Coming back to her childhood home, who else would she expect to see inside but her dear old Dad and loving Mum?"

"Yes, of course," Hermione's father nodded once more, "Some sort of transference issue, no doubt."

"Uhm…I reckon so," Mal nodded, "So…would it be alright if we came in? We hate to bother you on a Sunday, but we could only get her released for the weekend."

"I don't see it as a problem," Wendell/John replied, "However, I must check with my wife first. You understand, of course…"

"Of course," Mal responded, smiling brightly, "You check with the little woman, and we'll wait right here."

With a nod, the dentist moved back inside the small, white house, leaving the front door open just slightly, not wanting to be so rude as to completely close the door in the sick girl's face. When she was sure her father was no longer within earshot, Hermione turned on Malcolm Majeebers, fury buring in her chocolate-colored eyes.

"I'm a _mental patient_?!" she hissed, fighting back the desire to hex him into dust, "_That_ was your plan to get us inside?"

"Actually, no," Mal admitted, shooting her a glare that revealed his displeasure at having to make up a story at the spur of the moment, "I had a great story already worked out with I.D. cards, fake badges, paperwork and everything…but _you_ had to go and blow it by calling him _Daddy_."

Hermione blushed and looked down at her shoes. He was right. She had screwed up. She hadn't taken the time to plan things out before rushing off to Australia to find her parents, and that lack of planning was coming back to bite her in the end. She was almost relieved that Ron and Harry weren't here to see how she was slipping.

Where was the know-it-all bookworm who researched everything to the smallest detail? Where was the _smartest witch of her age_ who took into consideration all contingencies before pushing forward with a plan? That girl was gone, lost, and in her place was a scared little girl who just wanted her parents back.

Before Hermione could think of anything to say to Malcolm that would in any way redeem her for her earlier mistake, the green door was pulled wide again and the man had returned. He brought with him a woman with grey-streaked brown hair who bore a striking resemblance to the young woman standing before them.

Hermione gasped, seeing her parents together, standing before her for the first time in a year.

"Mum!"

Majeebers rolled his eyes as Hermione did it again. He felt for the girl, he did, but she was making his life Hell right at the moment.

"Oh, you poor dear," the woman exclaimed pulling the girl into a hug, "Wendell explained this all to me. You think we're your parents."

Hermione wrapped her arms around her mother and buried her face in her shoulder, tears starting to flow heavily from her eyes. She might have been able to keep from weeping like a baby if her mother hadn't hugged her, but the contact was too much for her.

"There, there, dear," Monica/Elizabeth whispered to the girl, "You just let it out."

"Perhaps we should go inside," Mal suggested anxiously. He hated being around crying women, and what's worse this particular crying woman was making everything so much more difficult.

"Yes, of course," the woman said as she gently rubbed the girl's back, "We'll go sit and have some tea…that should calm her, don't you think?"

"Couldn't hurt," Mal grumbled, looking around to make sure they weren't becoming a neighborhood spectacle.

"You know, I don't think I ever caught your names," Wendell/John Wilkins/Granger said looking at Mal.

"Oh. Right. My name's Majeebers…Malcolm Majeebers, but friends call me Mal," he said as he extended a hand that the dentist then shook, "And this little Shiela's called Hermione."

"I'm Wendell, and this is Monica," he replied indicating his wife, "Wendell and Monica Wilkins." He was speaking directly to Malcolm so he didn't notice Hermione visibly flinch when he said their names.

"Hermione?" Monica/Elizabeth Wilkins/Granger said, pulling back from the girl slightly and looking her in the eye, "From Shakespeare? I've always loved that name. Such a pretty name for such a pretty young lady."

"Thank you," Hermione squeaked, wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands.

Hermione was trying to calm herself down, but after all she had gone through during the war, finally seeing her parents…being embraced by her mother again after all this time…was overwhelming for her. She was so close to getting her parents back, and all she had to do was keep calm for a little while longer…if only she could get her emotions under control enough to do that.

Mrs. Wilkins kept her arm around Hermione as her husband led them into the house. They settled in the living room, with the two women sitting next to each other on the couch. Majeebers took up a spot in a wing chair across from them, and Mr. Wilkins went about making tea.

"Does any of this look familiar, dear?" Monica/Elizabeth asked Hermione, indicating the interior of the house she was supposed to have grown up in.

Hermione cast a nervous glance over to Mal. He gave her a look that said she should play along.

"Uhm…yes," Hermione replied nervously, "I…grew up here."

Mal nodded and smiled from the chair before getting up and making his way towards the small kitchen, calling out to the man making the tea. "How about I give you a hand in there, Wendell?" He entered the small kitchen before the man could refuse his help.

Suddenly there was the _crash_ of something metal hitting the floor resounding from the kitchen, followed closely by a dull _thud_ of what sounded like a body falling, too.

"Wendell?" Monica called, startled. She jumped to her feet and started towards the kitchen. Hermione quickly got to her feet and followed.

"No worries," Mal called, appearing in the doorway, blocking the kitchen from the two women, "Wendell just dropped the tea kettle."

"Oh, well, I should really help him clean up," Monica said, trying to get by Majeebers.

Before she could get very far, however, he produced his wand from behind his back and aimed it at her; a blast of red light shot forth and hit Mrs. Wilkins causing her to crumple to the floor. Hermione screamed as she watched the man she had trusted attack her mother.

"What the Hell are you doing?!" Hermione shouted, pulling her own wand out and aiming it at Majeebers.

"Calm down, ducks," Mal said in a breezy tone, picking Hermione's mother up off the carpeted floor and placing her gently on the couch, "She's just stunned."

"Daddy…err…Dr. Wilkins?" Hermione called into the kitchen, keeping her wand trained on her Ministry liaison.

"He's stunned, too," Majeebers said once he had the older woman resting comfortably on the couch.

"Why are you doing this?!" Hermione cried, scared that she had somehow led a rogue band of Death Eaters to her parents' doorstep, intent on getting revenge on her for taking part in the downfall of Voldemort.

Majeebers stepped up to the frightened young woman and pushed her wand aside, grabbing her arms to steady her, "Hermione, calm down! This is a necessary part of the process…they have to be unconscious for the Memory charm to be reversed. You know that, right?"

"Yes, but…"

"How did you think we were going to _get_ them unconscious?" he asked, looking her dead in the eye. As he did this, he saw the girl suddenly regain control of herself. She hung her head as if embarrassed at her reaction.

"I'm sorry, Mal," she said, looking at the floor, "Of course you're right. I just didn't think it through. This whole ordeal is just…it's more than I can handle."

"Then it's a right bloody good thing you've got me along to help," he replied, flashing her a smile. She looked up and smiled meekly at him before he let her go and moved towards the kitchen, "I'll bring your dad in, you go outside and let the others know we're almost ready to start."

Hermione nodded and hurried over to the front door. She cast one last look back at Mal before she went outside. "Mal, I…thank you for all your help."

"No drama, ducks, I'm glad to help!"

* * *

It was dark by the time Malcolm Majeebers dropped Hermione off at _The Dingo's Durry_. It had been a long, taxing day, and all she wanted to do right now was go to her room, drop into bed, and cry herself to sleep. It hadn't been a bad day, really – her parents were her parents again, so _that_ was pretty wonderful – it had just been extremely stressful.

It had taken a couple of hours for the Memory charms to be successfully reversed, and for her parents to once again realize that they were John and Elizabeth Granger. Once the charm was reversed and their memories restored, Hermione had a lot of explaining to do. To say they were upset with their daughter was a bit of an understatement.

A lot of damage control was going to have to be performed before the Grangers could resume their lives in England, and for several tense minutes the idea of just remaining in Australia (with Hermione, of course, relocating) was bandied about. However, with Mal's assurances that both Ministries for Magic (Australian and British) would help them in whatever way necessary to return them to their old life, the Grangers agreed to once again uproot (this time of their own free will) and return to England.

Tomorrow morning, the Wilkinses would be tying up all their loose ends in Australia, and by week's end (Hermione hoped – fingers crossed!!) they would be ready to disappear forever while the Grangers re-emerged and reclaimed the life they left behind.

Hermione had made her way inside the inn and was two feet from heading upstairs to her nice, warm bed when she felt a large hand grip her shoulder and heard a voice that made her blood run cold.

"Herm-own-ninny…"

She whipped her head around violently, her eyes shooting daggers at the beefy Bulgarian Quidditch player who had the gall to lay a hand on her.

"Get your hands off me, Viktor," she hissed, her hand quickly producing her wand from her coat pocket.

"I vant to talk to you, Herm-own-ninny," he said in a soft voice…or, at least, what _passed_ for a soft voice for _him_.

"I don't want to talk to you, Viktor. I don't want to _see_ you. Frankly, I don't want to _know_ you after what you said the other night." She was livid, but she was managing to keep an even tone, maintaining her calm much better now than she had managed to do at her parents' house.

"I vant to apologize, Herm-own-ninny," Viktor said, doing his best to flash her a sad-puppy-dog look, "I drank too much vine and wodka…I vould never try to force myself on you, or say such horrible tings about the Veakleys…they are such vunderful people."

"Weasleys, Viktor," she sighed, folding her arms across her chest and looking away from him, "They're the Weasleys, not the _Weakleys_."

"Yes, of course," Krum nodded his great pumpkin-head, "The Veasleys. Can you ever forgive me for being a…vot did you call me…a _grit_?"

"Git, Viktor, I called you a git," she sighed again. She didn't want to forgive him after he had said such horrible things about the Weasleys…and Ron…she didn't want to forgive him for making a pass at her.

"Remember, Herm-own-ninny," he said, reaching down and taking her hands in his, "You are the person I vould miss the most."

Hermione gave him an evil look. He was playing dirty now, reminding her of her Fourth Year at Hogwarts when he was the Durmstrang Champion in the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and she was the person he had to rescue during the Second Task…the person he cared for the most…the one he would miss the most if something happened to her. She sighed again and hung her head in defeat.

"Fine, Viktor, I forgive you."

"Oh, Herm-own-ninny! You haff made me so happy today!!" he smiled broadly and picked her up in a great bear hug, like when he greeted her on his first day in Australia, and began spinning her around again.

The room spun quickly around her and she could barely make out any of the décor of the inn; it tended to blend together into streaking bands of various shades of brown with blurry, nondescript people spinning along with the room. However, she was able to make out one shape as it approached her and Viktor from the back of the bar…the shape of someone tall with a messy mop of flaming red hair atop his head.

"OI!! What the Bloody Hell do you think you're doing with my girlfriend?!"

**-- End Chapter 15 --**

* * *

**Author's End Notes: **Nothing like ending with a cliffhanger. Okay, so who's going to be the first to hammer me for Krum tonight?


	16. Of Pumpkin Heads and Other Gits

**Author's Notes:** This is it...finally...the Ron/Hermione reunion everyone's been waiting for. Hope it lives up to everybody's expectations. I'm posting this a bit early since it IS the weekend, and I might have plans. (I don't, but it could happen!)

Oh! This is a totally Ron/Hermione chapter, so I hope you don't mind. I thought the two lovebirds were deserff--...err...deserving of a chapter all to themselves.

This is the part where I thank everyone who's been reading this story and to give a shout out to everyone who's ever taken the time to review! Thanks to **Edinburgh Love**, **Ann Malfoy**, **Cantletharrygo**, **CutewithAcapital-Q**, **fatyellowrat**, **Avanell**, **Dizzy0305**, **katie1985**, **Elytha**, **Trude**, **mugglemama**, **emmy1124**, **Emma.Jane-HPfan**, **Moony3005**, **IsI Wisi**, **Lady Anja**, **embergrl9010**, **the written princess**, **MissFinnegan**, **Tiffany M**, **kareem33**, **randomguy1517**, **Shlesha**, and** ronniemione**. I appreciate each and every one of your reviews.

"Aftermath" is rated M for language and naughty stuff.

**Disclaimer:** This is J.K. Rowling's pool...I'm just swimming in it while she's not looking.

* * *

**"Aftermath"**

**Chapter 16 -- Of Pumpkin-Heads and Other Gits**

Ronald Bilius Weasley was not the brightest wizard of his age, but he did have a particular insight into one thing: if you work for twelve straight hours at your brother's joke shop and then Apparate to the other side of the planet using only a photograph as a reference, it _will_ take a lot out of you.

This was the predicament Ron found himself in as he Apparated into the middle of _The Dingo's Durry_ (although he didn't know the name of the place at the time) in the wizarding part of Canberra, Australia. After puking his guts out on the old wooden floor, Ron proceeded to pass out, landing face first on the same wooden floor (although, thankfully, about a foot or so to the left of his own pool of vomit).

If not for the kindness of the owners of _The Dingo's Durry_, Denny and Gertie O'Doyle, there's no telling what might have happened to Ron. As it stood, Mrs. O'Doyle had tended to Ron as he lay, tossing and turning in a restless, fitful sleep, in the bed she shared with her husband.

It was nearly seven o'clock in the morning when he arrived at _The Dingo's Durry_ (thanks to a nine hour time difference between the Burrow and Canberra); he'd spent the last twelve hours asleep in the O'Doyles' bed. He'd awakened for brief periods during those twelve hours, but for no longer than a minute or two; he'd mumble something barely intelligible (often about his knee), try in vain to get up, and then fall back into bed, slipping once again into unconsciousness nearly the instant his head hit the pillow.

Now, however, after twelve relative solid hours of sleep, he felt rejuvenated, he felt re-energized, he felt…

_Gurgle_

…Hungry.

Ron pulled himself out of the bed he was in – an unfamiliar bed in and unfamiliar bedroom filled with unfamiliar wizard photos of unfamiliar people. The only familiar thing in the room was his beat-up old pair of trainers that sat on the floor next to the bed.

_Gurgle_

Ron quickly pulled on his shoes as his empty stomach gave another loud grumble. The smell of food being cooked – was that beef...chicken? – floated heavily in the air. He didn't know exactly where he was, and his mind was still muddled from sleep that he wasn't sure what he was supposed to be doing, but he did know that he wasn't going to rest (not that he needed any after twelve hours of sleep) until he'd gotten some of whatever smelled so good securely ensconced in his stomach.

As he made his way out of the small bedroom, he could hear the raucous din of a large group of people coming from the doorway at the end of the hallway. The voices were joined by the sound of glasses _clinking_ and Ron suddenly remembered Apparating into the public room of an inn before he blacked out.

He emerged from the dark hallway into the subdued lighting of the pub. The youngest male Weasley was about to go off in search of the food that had been calling to him like a Siren, when something caught his eye across the room, bringing his full attention to it, and making him forget all about his hunger.

At first, it seemed as if it might've just been the joyful spinning around of the embracing couple that drew his attention. Or, maybe it could have been the loud, grating laughter of the thick-eyebrowed, hook-nosed, rather pumpkin-headed bloke with the stupid little beard. It may've been the similarity to the scene that played out over and over again in the crumpled wizard photo in his hip pocket. It could have been any or all of those things that drew his attention, but Ron knew what it really was.

It was the hair. That wild, untamed mass of frizzy chestnut curls that he looked for longingly anytime he entered a room. That mane of chaotic, fly-away hair that he so enjoyed burying his face into. Those brown, bushy locks that could only…and did only…belong to one person in the entire world. The girl…the _woman_…who was the love of his life and the keeper of his heart: Miss Hermione Granger.

The same Hermione Granger that was, at this present moment, being hugged and spun around the bloody entrance of the bloody foyer of the bloody inn in bloody Australia by Viktor BLOODY Krum!!

"OI!!" Ron screamed, balling his fists up and stomping over towards his girlfriend and the man he had, years ago, idolized, "What the Bloody Hell are you doing with my girlfriend?!"

The sudden outburst and the impending conflict drew the attention of everyone in the room. All conversation ceased as every eye in the pub was trained on the redheaded boy, the bushy-haired girl, and the Bulgarian Quidditch player.

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, unable to believe her eyes, "What are you doing here?"

She wanted to run to him, throw her arms around him and snog him into next week. She wanted to grab his hand, drag him upstairs, and show him just how much she had missed him. However, two facts quickly dawned on Miss Hermione Granger that you didn't need to be the top of your class six years in a row at Hogwarts to comprehend.

Fact #1: She was in a compromising position, being embraced rather vigorously by a man who was _not_ her boyfriend; a man said boyfriend despised more than anyone not named Malfoy.

Fact #2: The man who _was_ her boyfriend was glaring at the pair of them with a look of such hurt, anger, and betrayal in his sapphire blue eyes that she wanted to weep in despair and cower in fright at the same time.

"Now might be a good time to put her down, you pumpkin-headed ponce!" Ron was so irate that his voice was a literal growl.

"Put me down, Viktor," Hermione said quickly, slapping his arms, "Now!"

The internationally famous Quidditch star did as Hermione requested, but the manner in which he put her down drew Hermione's body to him and caused her to slide against his own body in what might be considered an intimate, sensual way. The fact that he smirked at the angry redhead before him as he did it left no doubt to anyone – except Hermione, who didn't see the smirk because she was desperately looking at Ron – that Viktor Krum had clearly done _that_ on purpose.

Once her feet were planted firmly on the old, weathered planks of the wooden floor, Hermione made to go to Ron as he stood there, a mere few feet away, seething like mad. However, she quickly discovered that the Bulgarian had a firm hold of her wrist.

"Let go, Viktor!" she snapped, trying in vain to pull away from the all-star Seeker's vise-like grip.

"No, Herm-own-ninny," Viktor replied, doing his best to sound concerned for her welfare, "Look at him…he looks like a vild man. I fear he might hurt you. You are safer vit me!"

"Viktor, Ron is my boyfriend. He's not going to hurt me." Even as she said this, however, there was a slight quaver in her voice that revealed that there was a part of her, no matter how slight, that might not believe her own words.

Hermione prayed that she was the only one who had detected the miniscule lack of faith in her boyfriend, but when she saw the way Ron's face fell, the way his shoulders sagged, the way he suddenly turned away from her, avoiding her gaze, Hermione knew that he, too, had heard it.

Had she seen the devious smirk turn into a toothy, wolfish grin on the face of Viktor Krum behind her back, not only would she know that he, too, had heard the doubt in her voice, but she likely would have slapped him the way she had slapped Draco Malfoy during their Third Year at Hogwarts.

"Ron…" Hermione said softly, pleadingly, as she once again tried to pull away from Viktor's grasp, "Ron, this isn't what you think. Viktor, let _go_!" Hermione practically screamed at the Bulgarian as she turned around and swatted at him trying to get him to release her wrist so she could go to Ron.

"Isn't she a little old for you, Viktor?" Ron asked quietly. He was still looking away from them and he spoke so softly that it was difficult to make out what he was saying.

"Vot did you say?" Viktor looked puzzled at the redhead's comment, and without meaning to, he let go of Hermione.

Hermione, too, looked at Ron with a puzzled expression. She'd expected him to explode at her, to lunge at Viktor and attack him, to blast them both to kingdom come with his wand. She didn't expect him to remain calm and composed. He wasn't losing his temper and flying off the handle; she supposed she should be happy, that she should be proud of Ron's maturity. But a niggling feeling in the back of her head warned her that this just might be the calm before the storm.

"I _said_," Ron began, his voice rising slightly to a more normal level, "Hermione is eighteen…isn't she a little old for you?"

"Ron…" Hermione had a feeling where this was going. It was a new twist on an old argument he'd had with her whenever Viktor Krum's name was mentioned…the age issue. However, she was a bit confused by him saying she was too _old_.

"Vot do you mean?" Krum asked, scratching his head as he pondered the meaning of Ron's words.

"You like 'em young, don't you _Viktor_?" Ron had turned to face them now, and the fury in his eyes belied his calm exterior, "Harry tells me you were ogling my fifteen-year-old sister at Bill and Fleur's wedding last year."

"Vich von vos your sister?" Viktor asked, thinking back to the wedding.

"Ron, stop. This is getting ridiculous," Hermione said crossly.

Ron didn't bother to acknowledge Hermione as he took a few terse steps towards Viktor. "I'm sure if you hurry, you might find some fifteen-year-old girls somewhere before it's past their bedtime."

"Vot are you --…?"

"_Ron!_" Hermione yelled, stepping between the redhead and the Bulgarian, "Stop this now! You're not funny, you know!"

Ron looked down at her, eyes still flashing with rage. When he spoke, his voice was once again quieter than normal, but it came out as a soft, wrathful hiss, "You're right, 'Mione, it's _not_ funny! And neither is this!"

Ron took the crumpled letter and two photographs out of his pocket and handed them to Hermione. She looked at the folded and wrinkled mess for a few moments, casting a confused glance up at her boyfriend before she unfolded it all and her face went white.

There she was, being hugged and spun around while Viktor smiled happily, in a scene reminiscent of a few minutes ago. She moved on to the next photograph and found herself at dinner with Viktor as he tried to hand her a glass of wine. Finally, she began reading the letter…the letter that was written in a very familiar hand.

Hermione's pale face quickly flushed red and her eyes flashed with anger. She glanced up momentarily at Ron, two pairs of angry eyes communicating nonverbally as they both turned as one to face Viktor Krum.

"Explain this to me, Viktor," Hermione said, shoving the photos and the letter at him, "Tell me the story of how these photographs wound up in Ron's hands."

"Vot do you vant me to say, Herm-own-ninny?" Krum didn't even bother to look at the items in the hands. He already knew what they were.

"Why did you send these to Ron?" she said, glaring at him.

"Because he does not deserff you, Herm-own-ninny," Viktor said taking a step closer to her, completely ignoring Ron's presence, "I luff you Herm-own-ninny. I haff luffed you since we met. I haff pretended not to because you said you vished only to be friends…but secretly I longed to tell you of my feelings."

Hermione's mouth gaped open. She had no idea what to say. Here was Viktor pouring out his heart to her…in front of her boyfriend! Behind her she could hear Ron growling under his breath and she knew there was not much time before he lashed out as his perceived rival.

"Ron," she said, turning quickly, grabbing his face and making him look her in the eye, "Do you trust me?"

The hatred for Viktor Krum disappeared briefly, replaced with confusion as he focused on Hermione's chocolate brown eyes, "Of course I do. Why would you even need to ask me that?"

"Then take this key, go upstairs, and wait in my room," she handed him the key marked _#18_ and waited for him to respond.

"Wait," he replied, shooting her a quick glare and then inclining his head towards Krum, "What about…_him_?"

"You trust me, so trust me to take care of him," Hermione replied in all seriousness. She folded her arms across her chest as if challenging him to prove his words to her, "Go upstairs. I'll be up in a minute. I still want to know how you got here."

Ron opened his mouth once, then again, looking for some way to respond. Hermione quirked an eyebrow at him, and he knew if he didn't do as she said, Viktor's presence would be forgotten and he'd be finding himself in a heated row with his girlfriend.

"You could at least say _please_ so it doesn't sound like you're being all bossy again," Ron said. He crossed his arms over his chest, too. This was often their starting position during arguments at Hogwarts…before things would get out of hand and they would start screaming at each other.

Hermione's stern look softened slightly and she realized she _was_ being bossy. Of course, he _should_ be used to that by now. However, this was a volatile situation and if Ron trusted her enough to do as she asked, the least she could do is be nice about asking him.

"Please, Ron?" her eyes lost their hardness as she pleaded with him.

He nodded at her, smiling lopsidedly as he leaned in for a quick kiss. His eyes never left her. He wasn't trying to prove a point to her or Viktor with the kiss, not marking his territory, not doing anything but showing the woman he loved that he did, in fact, love her.

Ron walked quickly to the steps, turning at the last second before heading upstairs to call back to Hermione, "When you come up, 'Mione, bring food…I'm starving." And with that, Ron walked up the steps, disappearing from view.

Hermione stood for a few moments gazing at where Ron had last been standing, a small smile tugging at his lips. He was hungry…he was _always_ hungry. That was so _Ron_. _Her_ Ron. And suddenly it hit her that she really hadn't expected him to go upstairs and let _her_ handle Viktor…not without a fight; either with her or with Viktor. The amount of trust he was giving her was monumental and it caused the small smile on her lips to blossom into a huge, ear-to-ear grin.

Ron really was growing up.

"Herm-own-ninny!"

The sound of Viktor's voice broke her from her reverie, and Hermione turned her attention to her Bulgarian pen-friend. Her smile quickly faded to be replaced by a stern scowl and her eyes that had been soft and dreamy as she watched Ron walk upstairs had turned hard once again.

"_This_ is unacceptable, Viktor," she snapped, waving her arms to indicate everything that he'd done, "I'm sorry if you have feelings for me, but I told you long ago that I was in love with Ron. It's why I wouldn't let you kiss me at the Yule Ball, it's why I wouldn't spend the summer with you in Bulgaria, and it's why I'm telling you right now to leave me and Ron alone."

"But, Herm-own-ninny…"

"No _buts_, Viktor," she said harshly, cutting across him, "What you did…trying to break up my relationship with Ron was unforgivable. You're supposed to be my friend, Viktor!"

"I vant to be more, Herm-own-ninny."

Viktor was very calm and serious as he said it. He folded his arms across his chest as if to say he'd said the final word on the matter.

"I'm sorry, Viktor," she said flatly, "But I can _only_ be your _friend_."

"I _vant_ you," he said, moving in closer than she was comfortable with, "I vant you and vill do vot-ever it takes to vin you."

"_Win me_?!" she exclaimed angrily, "This is not a bloody Quidditch match! I'm not a Golden Snitch for you to try and catch! I am not a…a _prize_…to be _won_, Viktor!! I'm a person! I thought you understood that, but I see I was wrong. Good-bye, Viktor."

"You are leafing?" his face fell as she started to move towards the stairs, "Ve are not done talking…!"

"_I'm_ done, Viktor," she sighed, turning as she got to the stairs, "Ron is waiting for me, and I'm sure I'm going to have a long night fixing this with him…so _thank you_ for that."

"He does not deserff you, Herm-own-ninny!" Viktor walked towards her, not wanting to let her get up those steps and away from him, "I can giff you tings he cannot!"

"Can you give me _Ron_, Viktor?" she asked with a straight face, "Because I _want_ Ron, and that's exactly what I'll get when I go up these stairs to my room, Viktor. Ron."

Without waiting for a response from the Quidditch star, Hermione turned and walked up the steps, stopping at the first floor and making her way to Room #18. Inside was the man she loved; the man she's been missing since she left his side a few short days ago. He'd come to her; she had no idea how, but he'd come to her, and she was excited at the prospect of a loving reunion. Taking a deep breath, Hermione flung open the door and walked inside to the man she loved.

* * *

Ron Weasley very calmly and collectedly walked up the steps to the first floor of _The Dingo's Durry_ and made his way down the hall to Room #18. He unlocked the door and entered the room, closing the door behind him and leaning up against it as he felt his calm façade start to fade.

Ron lashed out, yelling angrily as he punched the wall, knocking shards of plaster loose with his rage. Hermione was testing him and he bloody well knew it. He had to trust her to handle the Viktor Krum situation on her own, and if he didn't, he knew there'd be a great bloody row because of it.

Trusting Hermione was not the problem. He _knew_ she wasn't involved with Krum behind his back. That's not why he came looking for her. No, Ron risked his life to Apparate all the way to Australia because he was worried about what Krum might be capable of.

"He's a great manky git!" Ron grumbled, wishing Viktor Krum had never entered their lives in the first place. Ron cursed the day that Viktor Krum showed up with the rest of the Durmstrang delegation for the Tri-Wizard Tournament, "Too bad that Chinese Fireball didn't eat him during the First Task," Ron grumped, thinking back to the dragons the schools' champions had to outfox in their very first challenge, "Things would be so much simpler then."

Ron looked up at the closed door to the room he was in, as if willing Hermione to walk through at that exact moment. When she didn't, Ron's brain was overrun with thoughts of Viktor Krum and the sorts of scams he might try to pull. He's already tried to break them up with those photos, and then he'd told Hermione he loved her. What's next…proposing marriage and kidnapping her until she said _yes_?

As soon as _that_ though popped into his head, Ron began pacing nervously back-and-forth across the planked wooden floor, kicking the baseboard of the wall every time he neared it. More thoughts were whirling in his brain…nightmare scenarios, all of which ended with Hermione running off with Krum to live happily ever after.

"Arrgh!" Ron growled and banged his head against the wall, trying to rid himself of the offending thoughts.

"It's going to be alright," he said, trying to comfort himself, "'Mione loves me, not bloody Vicky. I have _nothing_ to worry about. She's getting rid of him as we…err…I speak, and she'll be coming through that door right…_now_!"

Ron turned and looked at the door, expecting the woman he loved to come walking through it at that moment. When she didn't, the hot-tempered redhead ran an aggravated hand through his mop of fiery hair.

"C'mon, 'Mione…how long can it possibly take for that duck-footed git to waddle his great pumpkin-shaped head out the door?"

The suspense was killing him. He'd been pacing for five hours…okay, fine, five minutes…and he couldn't take it anymore. He began stomping over to the door, staring at it; trying to decide whether he should continue to wait in the room, or go downstairs and see what was taking so long…thereby risking a fight with Hermione.

Ron wasn't going to get the chance to make up his mind, however, because before he could decide on what to do, the door to the room opened…and nailed him right between the eyes.

_BAM!_

"Waugh!"

Ron fell backwards, onto his bum, grabbing at his nose that was now bleeding quite readily.

"Ron!" Hermione cried, dropping to her knees next to him, "Are you okay? Why were you standing in front of the door? You _knew_ I was coming in!"

"Ah diyint doe joo wuh cummid id dow!" Ron mumbled, holding his hands over his bleeding nose.

"Move your hands, Ron, let me see!"

Ron reluctantly moved his hands away from his face. His hands were covered in blood and his eyes were watering. He chanced a look up at Hermione and winced slightly at the wide-eyed expression on her suddenly pale face.

"I think it's broken," she said, adopting her best academic voice, "Does this hurt?"

"AUGHHH!!" Ron howled in pain as Hermione pushed on his nose. She had thought she was being careful…delicate even…but judging by Ron's reaction, he thought she was being anything but.

"Don't be a baby, Ron!" Hermione snapped, caught off-guard by his howl of pain. She felt embarrassed at having hurt him accidentally, and whenever she was embarrassed, she tended to get snippy. Many of their rows during their years at Hogwarts had started because Ron had somehow embarrassed her.

"Id hurd," Ron whined, his eyes watering from the pain her indelicate poking had caused.

"Fine," she sighed, trying to take the edge out of her voice, "I'm sorry Ron. I didn't mean to hurt you. Now, come on…we've got to do something about that."

Hermione took out her wand and pointed it at Ron's face, causing him to flinch, screwing his eyes shut tight looking as if he expected her to be about to unleash the Killing Curse. She sighed and rolled her eyes before muttering a Healing charm that stopped the bleeding and fixed his nose. Once he was no longer bleeding, she cast a Cleaning charm and soon he looked perfectly normal.

"You can open your eyes now, Ron. Honestly!" she huffed, getting to her feet and moving to the bed, leaving Ron sitting on his bum on the floor, "You acted like I was a Death Eater or something, ready to hex your face off!"

"Sorry, 'Mione," Ron said sheepishly, slowly getting to his feet, "You just startled me is all, when you shoved your wand in my face."

"Oh, grow up, Ronald!" Hermione said, exasperated, "I didn't _shove_ it in your face. Besides if you hadn't been standing in front of the door when I came in, I never would have had to use my wand at all!"

"What? My fault…?" Ron sputtered, looking agog.

"What were you doing standing right in front of the door anyway?" she asked, slightly indignantly.

"I was getting worried," he admitted, looking down at his feet, "I was about to come and check on you."

"Check _up_ on me, you mean!" Hermione yelled jumping to her feet, "I thought you said you trust me!"

Ron looked up at her, his eyes starting to blaze with anger. He didn't want to fight…he'd come upstairs as she'd asked just so they _wouldn't_ fight…but if Hermione Granger was determined to get into a fight with him, well, Ronald Weasley was determined to give as good as he got!

"I _do_ trust you! It's bloody effing Krum I don't trust, isn't it!" he yelled, waving his arms around for emphasis, "He tried to break us up and tells you he loves you…"

"And you think I'm just going to fall at his feet and tell him to _take me_?!" her brown eyes reflected the same fire coursing through her boyfriend's blue eyes, "You must not think much of me, if you think I'd leave you for him!"

"I NEVER SAID THAT!!" Ron roared, his voice echoing throughout the small room, "Stop trying to put words in my mouth!"

"Well _I_ wouldn't _have_ to put words in _your_ mouth, Ronald, if _you_ would just TELL ME WHAT YOU MEAN!!" Hermione screamed allowing her voice to elevate to Ron's volume.

Ron looked at Hermione…the fire in the eyes, the flush in her cheeks, the way her nostrils flared with each breath. She was glorious when she was angry like this; it's no wonder he fell in love with her. And that's what made him turn away from her.

"I'm not doing this, 'Mione," he said, allowing his voice to return to a normal level, walking across the room, "I didn't come all this way to fight with you."

For an instant, Hermione was struck with abject fear as she watched the love of her life turn his back and start to walk across the room. She was scared to death that he was going to leave because of their stupid fight. What the Hell were they arguing about again? She couldn't even remember what had started it.

"Ron…"

"When I read that letter…when I saw those pictures…Merlin, I was furious!" he stopped walking as he reached the far wall, and placed a hand on the old, cracked plaster as if for support, "Not at you, of course. Harry thought I assumed you were cheating on me…"

"Harry…?"

"The thought never crossed my mind, actually," Ron admitted, smiling slightly although Hermione couldn't see, "What we have, 'Mione, it's strong enough to survive all the Viktor Krums and Lavender Browns in the world."

"Then why…?"

"You thought he just wanted to be your friend," Ron explained, cutting across her again, seeming as if he was determined to not let her finish a sentence…and surprisingly, she was letting him, "But if Krum was willing to send me those pictures…write those lies about the two of you…then what else might he be willing to do?"

He turned to look at her. The anger was gone from her eyes and she now sat on the bed, hands folded in her lap, listening intently to him. He gave her a half-smile and continued on.

"I was so scared that he'd try something, and hurt you if you rejected him," he stepped closer to her, "After all we went through with Death Eaters and Voldemort and all that other rubbish we had to deal with for the last seven years…the thought that bloody Krum might…might…"

It was Hermione's turn to cut Ron off. She jumped to her feet and pulled him into a kiss.

"Now that I know the truth," she said once she broke the kiss, "I know to stay away from Viktor."

"Good, cuz he's a bloody pumpkin-headed git!" Ron exclaimed, satisfied at finally making Hermione see the light about Viktor Krum after three-and-a-half long years.

"Don't curse, Ronald."

The look on Ron's face made him look like a little boy who had just been scolded, and it made Hermione laugh at him briefly before kissing him once more. When she broke the kiss, she squealed as Ron picked her up in strong arms and carried her over to the bed.

**-- End Chapter 16 --**

**Author's End Notes:** Let me apologize to anyone (and I know there's a LOT of you) who wanted to see Ron kick Viktor Krum's arse all over Australia. I thought it made more sense for him to take the high road and prove a little something to Hermione instead of just going off and beating Viktor bloody and having her mad at him for acting like "an insensitive prat".


	17. The Talk

**Author's Notes: **Okay, well, everyone (who's reviewed) has seemed to approve of the non-violent method in which Krum was dealt with...even though I think we all wanted to see Ron beat the juice out of ol' Pumpkin-Head!

Well, here we are with Chapter 17...there's a little bit of everyone in this chapter: Ron, Hermione, Harry, Ginny, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, George, even a little Percy (bet you thought I forgot about him!). Hopefully everyone enjoys this chapter, as things get a little sticky for Harry and Ginny.

As I do every chapter, I want to thank everyone who's been reading this story and to give out major thanks to everyone who's ever taken the time to review! Thanks to **Edinburgh Love**, **Ann Malfoy**, **Cantletharrygo**, **CutewithAcapital-Q**, **fatyellowrat**, **Avanell**, **Dizzy0305**, **katie1985**, **Elytha**, **Trude**, **mugglemama**, **emmy1124**, **Emma.Jane-HPfan**, **Moony3005**, **IsI Wisi**, **Lady Anja**, **embergrl9010**, **the written princess**, **MissFinnegan**, **Tiffany M**, **kareem33**, **randomguy1517**, **Shlesha**, **ronniemione**,** sarah-keyko**, and** not for lack of trying**. I appreciate each and every one of your reviews. Thank you all so much!

"Aftermath" is rated M for language and naughty stuff.

**Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling owns these characters, though I'd be willing to buy Ron and Hermione off of her.

* * *

**"Aftermath"**

**Chapter 17 -- The Talk**

Harry had gone after Ron shortly after explaining things a bit to Mr. Weasley about the letter and the incriminating photographs that had come via post owl earlier in the day. He had figured on spending the remainder of the night calming his best mate down. What Harry hadn't expected was that Ron would Disapparate mere seconds before he'd walked through the door.

"Ron, you prat," Harry groaned, looking around the cramped attic bedroom for some clue as to where his friend had gone. He found nothing that would indicate any destination for Ron, although he did come upon a couple of letters from Hermione and a pair of knickers under Ron's pillow.

"I'll be taking the mickey out of Ron for _these_ when he comes home!" Harry chuckled, holding up the thong as if to examine it.

As luck would have it, at that particular moment as Harry was bringing the _flimsy knickers_ in for a closer look, someone had come upstairs looking for him. She was quite surprised and a little put-out to find Harry standing in the middle of Ron's room holding a pair of girl's underwear.

"And just _what _are you doing with _those_, Mr. Potter?" Ginny Weasley asked with a little edge in her voice. She could tell that those weren't _her_ knickers, and even if they had been, the thought of Harry snatching a pair of her knickers for his own personal enjoyment kind of creeped her out.

At the sound of Ginny's voice behind him, Harry flung the knickers back onto Ron's bed where they landed softly on is pillow. He turned around and held his hands out before him in a defensive gesture.

"Ginny, I can explain," Harry said, talking before he really had a chance to think about the situation, "Those aren't mine…they're Hermione's!"

"And just what the Hell are you doing fondling Hermione's knickers, Harry?!" Ginny yelled storming towards him, her fists balling up, ready to hit him.

"Ginny, shhh!" Harry tried desperately to quiet her down, "You're going to wake someone!"

"Maybe I _should_ wake someone!" she yelled, ignoring is attempts to hush her up, "Or maybe I should tell Ron that you're up here spending some alone time with a skimpy pair of his girlfriend's underwear!"

"No! Wait, Gin! Look!" Harry handed her the note he found with the knickers, "Hermione _gave_ them to _Ron_. I just stumbled across them when I was looking for something."

"What were you…?" Ginny stopped as she read the note Harry handed her, "Oh! Eww! What do you suppose Hermione means when she says they're _'a memory of what we did'_? You don't think they did…_it_…do you?"

Harry paled at the thought. He hadn't considered it as a possibility until Ginny mentioned. Did his two best friends have sex? Would Ron have told him if they did? Would he want to _know_ if they did? Suddenly, as had happened when he was outside talking to Mrs. Weasley a couple of days ago, an unwanted image of two people shagging popped into his head. This time it was Ron and Hermione, but it wasn't any less disturbing than the thought of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley doing it out by the tree.

"You okay Harry?" Ginny asked, brown eyes flashing with concern for her boyfriend, "You're looking a little green."

"Yeah…uh…uhm…we need to talk about something else…_now_!" Harry sat down, doing his best to get the offending images out of his head.

Ginny tossed Hermione's note onto Ron's bed and then sat down next to Harry, rubbing is back. "Are you going to be okay?"

"I will," he said, "Once I can stop imagining your brother shagging Hermione."

"EWWW!!" Ginny screamed as the images in Harry's head jumped unbidden into her mind, "That's disgusting!! Oh, someone make it stop!! I keep picturing a pale white freckled bum moving up and --…"

"Ginny! STOP!!" Harry jumped up, clawing at his hair trying to stop picturing his two best friends going at it…especially his best mate's pale, freckled arse in motion, "Merlin's beard, Gin, we need to think of something else, quick!!"

"I know!" she yelled, rubbing at her forehead, trying to remove the image from her mind's eye, "Wait! I got it!!"

Ginny jumped up and grabbed Harry by the ears and pulled his face down to hers, kissing him roughly. The Boy-Who-Lived was a little started by the kiss at first, and a little annoyed at her yanking on his ears (that hurt!), but in short order, Harry's mind emptied and he gave himself over to the kiss, allowing Ginny's eager tongue access when it pressed determinedly against his lips.

Ginny moved Harry towards the camp bed and the two crashed down onto it, still wrapped up in the kiss. She pushed him down and was soon lying next to him, wrapping her leg around his and running her hand up and down his chest.

Harry tingled with Ginny's touch, and all thoughts of his best friends shagging and where Ron may have disappeared to were gone from his mind as he reveled in the pleasure of the passionate kisses of his hot-headed ginger girlfriend.

* * *

For the first time since the death of his brother, George Weasley had enjoyed himself. A night out with his old Quidditch team…and Lee Jordan…had worked wonders to lift his spirits. Of course, the drinking helped. And if he was honest, the dancing didn't hurt. Nor did the kisses he'd received from Angelina, Alicia, and Katie (much to the dismay of Oliver and Lee) before he'd made his way back home.

However, as he tried to negotiate the steps up to his old bedroom at the Burrow, George was wishing his brain wasn't quite so muddled by Firewhiskey. Or, rather, he _would_ be wishing _that_…if his brain wasn't _so_ muddled by the Firewhiskey that every time he took a misstep and fell he wound up breaking out in a round of drunken giggles.

It took him some time, but eventually, with barked shins, skinned knees, and a slightly bruised nose (he forgot to _open_ his door when he walked into his room), George found himself fully ensconced in his bed, closing his eyes and wishing the bed and/or the room would stop spinning. Within a few minutes, George had fallen asleep…or, he might've passed out…it could've gone either way.

_"Oi! George!! Wake up!!"_

_George's eyes slowly opened to find himself in a starry void, feeling as if he was floating. He looked up to see the familiar face of his twin brother, Fred, looking down at him. Reluctantly, George got up, stretching and yawning as he stood next to his brother._

_"What is it Fred? Couldn't you see I was enjoying my drunken stupor?"_

_"Fear not, dear brother, I'll leave you to enjoy your bed-spins, vomiting, and hangover in due course. But first I thought we should talk."_

_"We _are_ talking, Gred, or didn't you notice our mouths moving?"_

_"That's not what I meant, Forge. I mean, seriously."_

_"Very well then, brother dear, what would you like to talk about?"_

_"My death, George."_

_"…"_

_"I'm dead."_

_"…"_

_"You do _know_ that, right?"_

_"…"_

_"George, I'm dead!"_

_"No!"_

_"George…"_

_"No, Fred, I don't want to hear this!"_

_George looked around for someplace to run to, someplace to hide from the horrible things his twin brother was saying to him. All he could see was that bloody void full of stars. No place to run, no place to hide…nothing! Nothing for George to do but listen to Fred say he's dead over and over again._

_"George, you have to listen to me. This isn't a joke. This isn't a prank, or a Wizard Wheeze…it's real. It's life, George…and, well…death. _My_ death."_

_"But, Fred…I can hear you…every day. You're here, with me."_

_"You're right, brother dear, I am with you. Every day. I'm with you in the piece of your heart that you've reserved for me…right next to the pieces for Mum and Dad and Bill and Charlie and Ronnie and Ginny and even Perfect Prefect Percy. I'm there…and I always will be there."_

_"But I can _HEAR _you!"_

_"That voice in your head isn't me, George. I'm gone…and the only place I live on is in your heart."_

_"Then what's the voice I hear?!"_

_"I dunno…your despair? Your fear of being alone? Fear of letting me go? Your fear of moving on?"_

_"I don't _want_ to let you go! I don't want to move on!"_

_"You have to move on, George. You have a life to lead."_

_"But…"_

_"No buts, George. You have a long life ahead of you. A wife, kids, a successful business. It's all there for you to take. All you have to do is get on with your life."_

_"But _how_ can I get on without you, Fred, you're my other half!"_

_"I know, George…it won't be easy. But remember what Dumbledore said? The time has come to choose between what is right and what is easy."_

_"And what's right is…?"_

_"Moving on…living your life. A _long_ life, preferably, George. Helping the family to move on. Making sure they make it through this…especially Mum."_

_"Mum?"_

_"This is hardest on her, George…she could go either way."_

_"Either way? You mean she…?"_

_"If things continue the way they are. She will. Soon. She needs some light, George, before the darkness gets the better of her."_

_"Why me? Why can't the rest of the family…?"_

_"They're trying, George. Ronnie and Ginny especially, but Ginny's scared and Ron's got so much on his plate just trying to keep _you_ together."_

_"Me?"_

_"He's worried about you, George. He's afraid you've gone insane, but he's doing his best to help you."_

_"Ickle Ronnie shouldn't be worrying about me, Fred, he should be spending his time with his girlfriend."_

_"He would, George, if he wasn't so worried about keeping his family together. You know how he is."_

_"Faithful and loyal to a fault."_

_"Would die for the people he loves."_

_"The ickle prat would sacrifice his own happiness for his family."_

_"Let's make sure he doesn't have to, George."_

_"How?"_

_"I told you how. Move on. Live. Heal. Help the family heal, George."_

_"I don't want to forget you, Fred!"_

_"You won't. Mourn me, remember me, keep a little piece of me in your heart, but live your life. Move on, George. Believe me, brother, life is short. We'll be reunited soon enough. And when we are…I've got some plans for the greatest pranks the afterlife has ever seen!"_

_"Wicked!"_

_"Good-bye, George. I love you, brother."_

_"Fred…?"_

"Fred?!" George sat up in bed as the morning sun shined in through his window, calling for his twin, listening for the voice in his head. The voice he'd come to rely on as that of his brother. It was the voice he could no longer hear. It was the sound of silence that told George once-and-for-all that he was all alone…it was the sound of silence that was broken by his great heaving sobs as George Weasley mourned the loss of his brother…as he slowly began to heal.

* * *

When Ginny Weasley had pushed Harry Potter down onto the camp bed in Ron's room, she had planned on a pretty intense snogging session, but she hadn't expected that intense snogging session to lead to her sleeping with him. That is to say Ginny and Harry fell asleep together, wrapped in each other's arms, clothing a little wrinkled and, perhaps, askew, but still firmly on. They had slept together in the most innocent meaning of that particular term.

She smiled happily as she felt Harry's arms around her, holding her tight. She snuggled her head into his chest. Lying here like this, waking up in the arms of her beloved boyfriend was like Heaven to Ginny Weasley. She couldn't think of a better way to greet the day. Ginny was just about to lean up and plant a good morning kiss on her boyfriend's lips when she suddenly remembered one of the reasons…the biggest reason, really…why she'd never slept in the same bed with Harry Potter before.

"GINEVRA MOLLY WEASLEY, WHAT ON EARTH DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING IN BED WITH A BOY?!"

Ginny and Harry sat bolt upright in the old camp bed and pulled apart so quickly that Harry fell off, crashing to the floor in a heap. His heart hammered in his chest as he looked up into the face of a furious Mrs. Weasley, her brown eyes blazing as she leveled her anger and disappointment at her only daughter.

"IS THIS HOW I RAISED YOU, YOUNG LADY?!" Molly screamed waving her arms around, "SNEAKING AROUND AT NIGHT WHILE THE HOUSE IS ASLEEP TO DO…_THINGS_…IN BED WITH YOUR BOYFRIEND?! I DIDN'T RAISE YOU TO BE A SCARLET WOMAN!!"

Then, as always seems the case with Molly Weasley, she turned her attention to the young man with dark hair and glasses who, if she had her way, would have long since been her adopted son. The anger in her eyes abated and they filled with concern as her face visibly softened.

"Harry, dear, are you alright? You didn't hurt yourself falling out of bed, did you?"

Harry looked up at her, mouth agape, "Uh…n-no. No, Mrs. Weasley."

"Why are you being so nice to _HIM_?!" Ginny shouted, jumping out of bed and standing toe-to-toe with her mother, "He's just as guilty as I am!! Or do I need to remind you that you found us _both_ in bed just now!"

"Giiinnn…!" Harry whined, not wanting her to remind her mother of what she had just seen. He'd never experienced Molly Weasley's ire and it was something he'd hoped to avoid.

"So then you want me to treat the two of you the same then, is that it, Ginevra?" Molly snapped, her anger returning as she once again faced her daughter, "Fine then! Both of you, downstairs, NOW! Ginny, wait for me in the kitchen! Harry, you wait in the sitting room for Mr. Weasley."

Molly turned and stormed out of the room on her way to fetch her husband. Once she was gone, the room was engulfed by silence as neither Harry nor Ginny knew what to say. Once the shock of the situation wore off, it was Harry who spoke first.

"What did you sell me out for, Gin?" Harry complained as he pulled himself up off the floor, straightening his clothes and searching for his glasses.

"Why should you get off scot free while I have to put up with Mum's wrath?" she snapped, poking him in the chest, "We were both in that bed, Harry Potter."

"Yeah, I know, Gin," he replied as he fumbled around the nightstand until he finally made contact with his glasses, "But now I have to go have a talk with your dad, and I doubt he's going to be his normal easy-going self when your mum tells him I was sleeping with his little girl."

"You sound like you'd rather face Voldemort again than my father!"

"Facing Voldemort would be easy," Harry groaned, "I wasn't caught in bed with _his_ daughter!"

"Do you think I'm relishing the conversation I'm going to have with Mum about this, Harry?" Ginny had begun straightening herself out, figuring her twisted and rumpled clothing would just give her mother more to yell about, "Don't be surprised if she tries to send me to a nunnery!"

"You should be used to her yelling at you by now," Harry quipped, smirking wryly at her as they made their way out of the attic bedroom together, "Besides, Gin, I don't think the wizarding world _has_ nunneries."

"It doesn't," she said dryly, punching him in the arm, "But that won't stop Mum. You wait. She'll send me to a Muggle nunnery in America just to keep me as far away from you as possible."

"That's okay, Gin," he smiled at her, leaning down to kiss her cheek lightly before they parted ways at the bottom of the stairs, "I know how to Apparate now. I can always come and visit you."

"Well, that makes me feel _much_ better," she said, rolling her eyes, "You prat!"

Harry moved into the sitting room as Ginny headed out to the kitchen. He watched her go until she was through the door and it closed behind her. The Boy-Who-Lived sat on the lumpy old couch, waiting for his girlfriend's father to come downstairs and have a talk with him. For the first time in his life, Harry Potter found himself afraid of Arthur Weasley.

Ten minutes passed before he heard footsteps on the stairs. The footsteps did not sound heavy or angry, and for a second Harry thought that perhaps Mr. Weasley really _was_ going to be easy-going about this whole situation. Of course, as soon as Harry saw that it was Percy coming down the steps, his hopes of an easy-going Mr. Weasley went out the window.

"Good morning, Harry," Percy said, sounding pompous and officious the way Harry remembered him from Hogwarts.

"'Morning, Percy," Harry said halfheartedly. He really wanted to get this whole situation over with. Why couldn't Mr. Weasley come down already?

"I understand that you and Ginevra were caught in a somewhat compromising position this morning," he crossed his arms and looked down at Harry, taking a moment to adjust his glasses before continuing on, "You are aware that she is still underage, are you not?"

"She turns seventeen in August, Percy," Harry said, rolling his eyes, "Listen, I'm kind of waiting for your dad to come down. Could you…?"

"Sit and wait with you? Certainly, Harry," Percy took a seat across from Harry, oblivious to the exasperated look the Boy-Who-Lived was giving him, "You know you're really quite lucky that I'm the one talking to you."

"How's that?" Harry asked, looking up at the ceiling, counting the cracks in the old plaster. Harry felt anything but lucky at this point.

"Well, if Bill or Charlie were here," Percy explained, "They'd be much less rational than I. They might even get violent. And Ronald certainly would become violent. Where _is_ Ronald anyway?"

"I have no idea," Harry said, shrugging, "Maybe you should go look for him. We wouldn't want me to get out of this without my best mate beating me to a bloody pulp."

"Nonsense, Harry, there's no need for violence," Percy replied, waving off the suggestion to go find Ron, "Besides, I'm certain Ronald will turn up sooner or later. Now then, about Ginevra…"

Harry heaved a great sigh. Could this get any worse?

"What are your intentions towards my sister?"

Obviously, it could!

"My _intentions_?" Harry asked, looking perplexed and uncomfortable.

"Yes, Harry, your intentions. Certainly you didn't plan to just sleep with my sister like she's some sort of scarlet woman," Percy explained, his lips drawn in a thin line reminiscent of Professor McGonagall, "You are going to do the _honorable thing_, aren't you?"

Before Harry could answer, more footsteps could be heard coming down the steps. Harry and Percy looked up to see Mr. and Mrs. Weasley coming off the stairs, both of them looking quite cross. When Molly saw her third eldest child sitting across from Harry, her expression softened slightly.

"Percy, could you be a dear and give your father and Harry some privacy?"

"Certainly, Mum," Percy said, jumping to his feet, "I was just about to Apparate home to freshen up. I met a young lady during my…time away…and I was hoping to bring her to Sunday supper."

"Of course, dear," Molly said, smiling at her son, "We'd love to meet her."

"Very well then," Percy replied, still sounding pompous as ever. He moved across the room and kissed his mother on the cheek and shook his father's hand, "Good-bye then Mother…Father. I shall be back in time for supper with Audrey. Good-bye, Harry."

Percy left the sitting room via the front door and the sound of him Disapparating could be heard moments later. Once her son had left the room, Molly Weasley's face resumed its stern look and she turned to her husband.

"You handle this one, Arthur, while I deal with your daughter in the kitchen."

"Of course, dear," Arthur replied moving towards Harry. He peered over his shoulder, noticing that Molly seemed to be waiting for something. Arthur turned around and glared crossly at Harry, "We are _very_ disappointed in you, young man! We take you into our home and this is how you repay us? _Fraternizing _with our underage daughter?!"

Satisfied that Arthur was, indeed, laying into Harry the way she would be laying into Ginny, Molly left the two men on their own. Once the sound of the closing kitchen door reached Arthur's ears and the sounds of Molly yelling at Ginny could be heard, Mr. Weasley's face softened considerably and he sighed, running a hand through his thinning red hair.

"Now then, Harry," Arthur said, reverting to his easy-going persona, "I do hope this whole situation hasn't served to traumatize you too much."

"Uh…" Harry was at a loss for words. Was this _really_ going to be this easy?

"Molly told me all about what she found in Ronald's room this morning," Arthur explained, putting his hands in his pockets, "I'm certain the fact that you were both fully clothed has calmed Molly considerably."

The sound of Mrs. Weasley's yelling could still be heard from the kitchen as if they had a front row seat. _This_ was calm?

"There is one thing I would like to know, Harry," Arthur said as he looked the young man in the eye, "What are your intentions towards my daughter?"

* * *

"Is it hot in here, or is it just me?"

Hermione Granger looked over at the redhead holding her in his arms as they lay together in her bed at _The Dingo's Durry_. She smirked at him briefly as she thought he might just be joking around, and then she noticed the sweat-soaked red fringe hanging down over his eyes.

"A little of both, I'd say," she replied. She grabbed her wand off the nightstand and aimed it at the ceiling fan overhead. She muttered something under her breath and the blades of the fan began to spin, circulating the much-too-warm air, "The owner keeps it much too hot up here; I've had to sleep with the fan on all week."

"The fan and nothing else?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows at her. The image of a naked, sweaty Hermione lying in the very bed he now occupied was definitely an image he'd be holding onto for a while.

"Stop it!" she laughed, punching him playfully in the arm.

Ron started to tickle her and they wrestled for several minutes before settling back into each other's arms, kissing passionately. They'd spent the last hour with their lips practically glued to each other as they made up for lost time by snogging each other's brains out.

"I missed this," Ron sighed as they came up for air and just held each other close.

"Mmm…me, too," Hermione agreed, snuggling her head into his broad chest, "You know, you never told me how you got here. Did your dad arrange for a Floo connection for you?"

"No, he couldn't," he explained, matter-of-factly, "I Apparated."

Hermione suddenly sat up, her face getting very serious as she looked down at him. "You didn't!"

"I bloody well _did_!" he replied knowing the look on her face and knowing that he was in dangerous waters where a vicious row could attack at any moment.

"Ron, that's like ten thousand miles! Do you know how _dangerous_ that is?!" she harped at him, starting to sound, once again, like his mother, "How did you even know where to find me?"

"Viktor's photograph," he said sheepishly, closing his eyes as he knew an explosion was coming.

"RON!! You Apparated ten thousand miles to a location you'd never been to using only a photograph as reference?! Do you know how _STUPID_ that was?! Do you know what could've happened?! You could have Splinched yourself! You could have _died_!"

"Or, I could have just passed out for twelve hours," he said lightheartedly with an uncertain smile.

Hermione's eyes widened as realization set in. "Ron…you _didn't_!"

"'Mione, come on…it's _okay_," he sat up and put his hands on her shoulders, rubbing them to try and relieve the tension he found there, "I'm alive and I'm here. And _you_ are missing the bigger picture."

"And what might _that_ be, Ronald Weasley?!" she was more than a bit annoyed at the humor he seemed to find in this whole situation. Didn't he realize she'd be lost if something happened to him.

"I made it here once…I can do it again," he smiled lopsidedly at her, waggling his eyebrows as he'd done before, "And now that I know where your bedroom is…"

She slapped him hard on the shoulder, "Stop it! I'm mad at you."

He leaned in and started to kiss her neck. Her breath caught in her throat and she tried not to moan. He was right…he was here, he was alive, and if he made it here once, he could do it again. Her willpower faltered slightly as she imagined him visiting her every night until she returned home, and a moan finally did escape her lips.

"You sure you're still mad?" he asked looking up at her. His crystal blue eyes shone with love and there was no way she could resist him. She flung her arms around his neck and her lips crashed against his as they once more fell back against the sheets.

"Of course I'm mad, Ronald! I'm _mad for you_!!"

"You let me get these clothes off you, 'Mione, and I'll show you how mad _I_ am for _you_!"

She grabbed his hands and entwined her fingers with his, chewing on his lower lip. "Ah-ah!" she scolded, looking up with a mischievous twinkle in her brown eyes, "We had a deal, remember? No sex until I get back from Australia!"

"Bloody Hell!!"

**-- End Chapter 17 --**

* * *

**Author's End Notes:** I hope this chapter was enjoyable for everyone. I'm doing my best to keep cranking out new chapters so I can post every day. There will be new material AT LEAST through Tuesday (I'm nearly finished wrting Ch. 19). Whether I'll be able to maintain the one-a-day schedule after that, who can say.

Chapter 18 goes up tomorrow afternoon! Hope to see you all there...when we'll see what happens with Ginny's half of the talk!!


	18. Molly Unleashed

**Author's Notes:** This is one of those chapters where a LOT happens, a little smorgasboard of plots for you people. Molly, Ginny, Harry, Arthur, Ron, Hermione...they're all here for your reading pleasure (and don't worry about George...he plays a big role next chapter!).

I love my reviewers! So many of them have reviewed me multiple times and have, almost completely, had nothing but nice things to say (a REAL ego boost!). So, to everyone who as ever sent me review (**Edinburgh Love**, **Ann Malfoy**, **Cantletharrygo**, **CutewithAcapital-Q**, **fatyellowrat**, **Avanell**, **Dizzy0305**, **katie1985**, **Elytha**, **Trude**, **mugglemama**, **emmy1124**, **Emma.Jane-HPfan**, **Moony3005**, **IsI Wisi**, **Lady Anja**, **embergrl9010**, **the written princess**, **MissFinnegan**, **Tiffany M**, **kareem33**, **randomguy1517**, **Shlesha**, **ronniemione**,** sarah-keyko**, **not for lack of trying**, **Emm04**, **Jacob's-One-Girl**, and **Ravenhaired2**), thank you from the bottom of my heart!

And to anyone who's read the story so far, thank you as well!! I hope you're enjoying it.

"Aftermath" is rated M for language and naughty stuff.

**Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling owns it all...the lucky duck!

* * *

**"Aftermath"**

**Chapter 18 -- Molly Unleashed**

"I cannot believe you, Ginny!" Molly Weasley yelled as she stormed around the Burrow's cramped kitchen, "In bed with a boy at your age! And under _my_ roof!!"

Where else are you supposed to _sleep_, Mum, if not in a bed?" Ginny replied tartly. She didn't think this situation was funny by any means, but she wasn't going to just sit quietly and let her mother rail at her. Not when she didn't think she did anything wrong.

"Don't you get cheeky with me, young lady!" Mrs. Weasley snapped, looking angrily at her daughter, "I know all about what two people can do in a bed, and I don't need to hear those sorts of things coming out of the mouth of my sixteen-year-old daughter like she was some kind of…of…"

"Scarlet woman?" Ginny supplied sarcastically.

"Yes! Exactly! A scarlet woman! Is _that_ what you want to be, Ginevra?!" Molly waved her arms around wildly, trying to get her point across.

_"Now I know where Ron gets it from,"_ Ginny sighed inwardly.

"A young lady should make a boy wait until she's ready," Molly continued, oblivious to the scowl set on Ginny's face, "She shouldn't just _give it away_…not even if she's in love. Not even if it's Harry."

"We didn't _do_ anything, Mum!" Ginny groaned. It'd be one thing to be thundered at by her mother if she'd actually had sex with Harry, but to just fall asleep next to him, it didn't seem fair, "We were kissing last night…in Harry's bed…"

"Kissing a boy _in his bed_, Ginny?!" Mrs. Weasley cut her off, "Do you know where that sort of thing leads?! Respectable young ladies do not kiss boys in their beds!"

"ALL WE DID WAS FALL ASLEEP!!" Ginny screamed, jumping to her feet.

"DON'T YOU TAKE THAT TONE OF VOICE WITH ME, GINEVRA WEASLEY!!" Molly screamed back.

"We slept, okay?" Ginny lowered her voice, hoping to finally get through to her mother, "We didn't _shag_, Mum! And even if we did…it's _Harry_! You _love_ Harry, remember?!"

"My feelings for Harry are not the issue here, young lady," Molly said stiffly, "The issue is my daughter behaving in a manner that is disrespectful to herself, to her parents, and yes, even to her boyfriend. Imagine poor Harry in there right now receiving a talking-to from your father!"

"Harry's getting off easy," Ginny muttered under her breath.

"Imagine how embarrassed that poor boy must be," Molly said, looking towards the closed kitchen door, "All because you can't control your urges."

"Can't control my urges?!" Ginny yelled incredulously, "Mum! Listen to yourself! WE SLEPT!! We fell asleep!! You do realize that your _sons_ have done much more with their girlfriends! Even Ron and Hermione --…!"

Ginny put a hand over her mouth as soon as she said those words. She hadn't meant to incriminate her brother or her best friend, but tempers were running high in the kitchen and she spoke before thinking.

"What has your brother done?" Molly asked, seeming to have finally heard something her daughter was saying.

"No-nothing, Mum," Ginny backpedalled. She was dead. She was sooo dead! If Ron didn't kill her, Hermione would. "This is about me and Harry, remember?"

Ignoring her daughter suddenly, Molly Weasley left the kitchen and made her way to the bottom of the stairs, "RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY…YOU COME DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT!!" When there was no answering call from her son, no sound of movement, Mrs. Weasley stormed up the stairs.

* * *

"M-my intentions?" Harry gulped as he looked up into the blue eyes of Mr. Weasley. Usually, they were comforting and assuring, but now they seemed piercing and insistent.

"Yes, Harry, your intentions," Mr. Weasley repeated, "What are your intentions towards Ginny? Surely you're not just using her for…what do young people call it these days…a tumble?"

"WHAT?! NO! No, sir!!" Harry yelled, realizing what Mr. Weasley was getting at, "I love Ginny."

"Of course you do, Harry," Mr. Weasley smiled briefly, "So answer the question."

"Well…I _intend_," Harry began slowly, trying to choose his words wisely, "To…date her…?"

"Ah. I see," Mr. Weasley's lips were thin and stern, rather like Professor McGonagall.

"And…and then," Harry continued, realizing that he hadn't supplied the correct answer, "Once she's out of school, and we're both ready, I'd…like to…marry her?"

Mr. Weasley stood there for a moment looking down at Harry with a straight face. It wasn't angry (like the way he'd looked when they'd all run into Lucius Malfoy in Diagon Alley prior to Second Year) but it wasn't his usual easy-going visage either. He seemed to be assessing Harry, trying to gauge whether or not the boy was being honest. Eventually, his expression softened and he began beaming (like he did the first time he met Hermione's Muggle parents).

"Excellent, Harry!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed, "In that case, I hearby give my blessing."

"Your blessing?" Harry looked a bit stunned.

"Of course, dear boy!" Mr. Weasley smiled, drawing Harry up off the couch to pat him on the back, "You have my blessing to ask for Ginny's hand in marriage."

"What?!" Harry's eyes widened and he started to sweat. "Mr. Weasley, you…you _do_ know…it'll be some time before this all happens."

"Of course, of course," Arthur smiled, just happy with the fact that it _would_ happen.

Before Harry could say anything else on the matter, Mrs. Weasley came bursting into the room, a murderous look on her face making her way to the stairs.

"Molly, dear, good news!" Arthur exclaimed before noticing the grim determination with which she tromped to the stairs, "Harry has agreed to make an honest woman of Ginny!"

Harry's eyes widened even further and his mouth went dry. Did Mr. Weasley _not_ hear what he said? It sounded as if the man was already planning the invitation list!

"That's wonderful, Arthur," Molly replied, not really listening, "RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY…YOU COME DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT!!"

Harry and Arthur both jumped as Molly screamed up the stairs at the top of her lungs. After staring up the steps for a few moments, she snorted in disgust and went storming up the steps towards her youngest son's attic bedroom.

"Oh dear," Arthur sighed, running his fingers nervously through his thinning hair, "I do wonder what Ronald has done now."

"She won't find him up there," Harry said quietly, feeling a bit guilty for not informing the Weasleys of Ron's disappearance sooner, "He left last night."

"Left?" Mr. Weasley looked perplexed, "Wherever did he go?"

"Uh…I'm not sure, but I think he might have gone to --…"

Harry's theory on where Ron may have gone was cut short by a blood-curdling scream from the very top bedroom of the house. Arthur and Harry immediately ran for the stairs quickly followed by Ginny coming nervously out of the kitchen. When they finally reached the attic bedroom, Arthur moved quickly to his wife's side while Harry and Ginny stopped dead in their tracks at the door.

In Mrs. Weasley's hand were the skimpy pair of Hermione's underwear and the incriminating note that Ginny and Harry had left sitting out on Ron's bed.

* * *

"So…no sex until after Australia," Ron groaned, "Even though I risked life and limb to Apparate _all_ the way to the other side of the planet for you?"

"We had a deal, Ronald," she smirked, poking him in the side as he gave her his sad-puppy-dog face, "Besides, there's other stuff we can do."

"You're right!" Ron smiled, waggling his eyebrows as he leaned in and started kissing her neck again.

"Ohhh…not…not that, Ron!" Hermione halfheartedly protested, "I meant _other_ stuff."

"Like what?" he asked, his voice muffled by her neck.

"Well…how long can you stay?" she asked, twirling her fingers in his red hair.

"I dunno," Ron said, moving his lips off her neck finally and looking up at her, "What time is it?"

Hermione looked at her watch, "Almost 8:30. You know, you _do_ have a watch of your own!"

"No, I meant...back home," he said, rolling his eyes, "What time is it back at the Burrow?"

"Uhm…" Hermione did some quick math in her head, "I think they're nine hours behind…so…it's 11:30 this morning."

Ron sighed and started to sit up, causing Hermione to look slightly concerned. When she saw him run his fingers through his hair, she knew something was bothering him.

"What is it, Ron…what's wrong?"

"I really should be getting back, 'Mione," he said sadly, "Someone's got to keep their eye on George."

"George? What's wrong with George?" Hermione asked, sitting up and gently rubbing her boyfriend's back, trying her best to comfort him.

"He's gone nutters, Hermione," Ron said, putting his head in hands, "You should see him. He keeps talking to himself…only…he's talking to Fred…like Fred's still alive and standing right beside him."

Hermione gasped, her hand automatically coming up to her mouth.

"I think I'm the only one who's noticed, 'Mione, and I'm scared," he looked away as he said this, not liking to admit weakness…not liking to admit fear, "You said yourself, Second Year, hearing voices isn't good, even in the wizarding world. What if we have to put him in St. Mungo's or something? After everything that's happened with Fred…I think it would kill Mum to have to institutionalize her own son. Literally _kill_ her!"

Hermione wrapped her arms around him tightly and held him close. She didn't know what to do or say, or how to fix this for him. If George really _was_ ill…_mentally ill_…there wasn't anything she could do other than be there to emotionally support him and his family…offer her shoulder should he need it to cry on, or just to lean on.

"Ron…I don't know what to say, other than I'm sorry and I really do hope it's not as serious as it seems. But whatever happens, I'll be there for you. You know that, right?"

"I know, love," he replied kissing her on the top of her head, "It's why I love you so much…you're always there for me."

"It's a two-way street you know," she said, smiling brightly at him, "You're always there for me, so I'm more than happy to return the favor."

"I love you, 'Mione."

"I love you, too, Ron."

"I'd better go," he said reluctantly, slowly pulling away from her and getting out of bed, straightening his rumpled clothes "Want me to come back tonight? Err…tonight _Burrow_ time?"

"Of course!" she said getting up and hugging him again, "Maybe you can come with me to see my parents."

"Sweet Merlin, 'Mione, I am _so_ sorry!" Ron gushed, reaching a hand up to caress her cheek, "I am such a bloody prat! I didn't even ask you how things went with your parents! I am just the worst ruddy boyfriend ever!"

She smiled at him. He was so sweet and he really was doing his best to be the ideal boyfriend. "It's okay, Ron…you had a rough day."

He smiled sheepishly at her and she stepped up on her tiptoes and kissed his nose.

"Still…"

Hermione took a deep breath, held it for a second, and then exhaled. "It was a bit…strained at first…once the memory charms were reversed. They were pretty angry about the whole situation. They even threatened to stay here in Australia and make me move down here with them."

"Bloody Hell, 'Mione, you're joking!"

She shook her head and smiled, "They got over it eventually. And thanks to Mal's offer of the Ministry's help to get things back on track, they're actually pretty anxious to get back home to England."

Ron quirked an eyebrow at her, "_Mal_? Who's this Mal bloke?"

"Oh God, Ron," Hermione laughed, slapping him on the arm, "Don't go getting jealous! Didn't what happened downstairs show you that _you're_ the only one for me?"

"Fair point," he replied, blushing, "Sorry, love."

"It's okay. Mal works for the Ministry down here," she explained, "He's been helping me since I arrived on Thursday."

"Will _Mal_ be there when you go see your parents again?" Ron asked, crossing his arms.

"Ron…"

"What? I was just asking!"

"He might be there, yes. But if you only want to come along because of Mal, you can just forget about coming. I don't want you to come."

She turned her back on him and stomped over to the bed, flouncing down onto the rumpled bedspread. She folded her arms across her chest and looked away from him, a scowl on her face.

"Bloody Hell!" Ron groaned, "'Mione, I'm sorry! I _don't_ want to go because of this Mal bloke. I want to go for _you_! Please…?"

Hermione huffed and continued to look away from him, but truth be told, she had to look away so he couldn't see the hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

"Are you going to make me beg?" he asked, moving slowly over to the bed.

Her only response was to turn further away from him and to stick her nose further in the air.

Smirking, Ron crawled onto the bed behind Hermione and moved his hands to her shoulders. She tried to shrug them off, but he persisted, and soon he was rubbing her shoulders to alleviate the tension. Hermione wanted to be angry with him…well…that's not true…she wanted to _seem_ angry with him, but the shoulder massage was almost too much for her. And when he leaned down and started kissing the nape of her neck, her resolve faded and a moan escaped her lips.

"Does that mean I can come to your parents' with you?" he asked, leaning close to her ear and speaking in a whisper that sent shivers down her spine.

Hermione turned around quickly and threw her arms around his neck, kissing him deeply; Ron's arms wrapped tightly around her as he lay back on the bed, pulling her down on top of him. Ron's last thought before he gave himself completely over to the passion and pleasure of snogging Hermione was that he hoped that everything at the Burrow would be okay without him for just a little while longer.

* * *

Molly Weasley's face, which had so recently been a furious red, was now pale and her eyes were wide as saucers. In her left hand she held a crumpled letter, clamped tightly in her fist as if it was a decree that declared it illegal for mothers to knit sweaters for their children at Christmas. In her right hand she held Hermione's knickers, pinched between her thumb and forefinger and held as far away from her body as her arm would allow, as if they were an artifact of the Darkest Magic, ready to suck the soul from anyone hapless enough to come across them.

"Molly, dear, are you alright?" Arthur asked, his voice heavy with concern. His wife was in a delicate emotional state lately, and the morning's events had not helped.

"Do you know what your son did, Arthur?" Molly asked, her brown eyes burning into her husband's blue ones. He looked away briefly, running his fingers nervously through his thinning red hair.

"No, dear, I can't say that I do," Mr. Weasley admitted, although he was sure that whatever it was that _his_ son had done, it couldn't have been very good…otherwise he would have been _her_ son.

"Your son…your randy, sex-obsessed son…has somehow managed to seduce poor sweet, innocent Hermione and turn her into a scarlet woman!" she yelled, waving the letter and knickers at her husband as evidence, "That dear girl, falling under the sway of his manly wiles!"

Ginny couldn't help the snorting giggle that escaped her as her mother went on about Ron and his seduction of Hermione. Anyone with half a brain could tell that _he_ was not the one in control of _that_ relationship! Unfortunately, Ginny's laughter drew her mother's attention back to her and Harry.

"Where is he?" Mrs. Weasley asked, her voice eerily calm, her gaze falling onto the two teenagers in the doorway, "Where is your brother, Ginny? Where is Ronald?"

"I have no idea, Mum, I haven't seen him."

Harry and Ginny exchanged a quick glance. Ginny truly had no idea where her brother was, and Harry had only an inkling. But, feeling that telling Mrs. Weasley something that might deflect her anger onto Ron was better than facing her wrath himself, Harry did the only thing he could do. He sold Ron out just as Ginny had downstairs…and he prayed Ron would forgive him.

"I believe he's in Australia, Mrs. Weasley."

"Australia?!" Molly yelled, her face getting red again. She quickly turned on her husband, "Did _you_ know about this, Arthur? Did you arrange for our son to go traipsing off to Australia to spend time _alone_ and _unsupervised_ with Hermione?" Molly was waving the underwear about as if it was some sort of condemning evidence of what the young couple might be doing all alone, half-way 'round the world.

"No, of course not, dear," Arthur said, feeling very uncomfortable at being in the presence of a young girl's underthings…especially those underthings belonging to his son's girlfriend, "Ronald came to me last night asking me to find him a way to Australia to see Hermione, but I told him it was impossible…at least until Monday."

"Well if you didn't help him, Arthur, how could he possibly get to Australia?" Molly asked, perplexed.

"I think he Apparated," Harry said, looking back-and-forth between the Weasley parents.

"Apparated?!" Mr. and Mrs. Weasley exclaimed at the same time, looks of dread crossing their faces.

"Arthur…" Molly looked up at her husband anxiously, hoping he would tell her that her youngest son couldn't have done that...that the Ministry had some kind of wards preventing international Apparation and that Ron was just outside brooding. Just that quick, as if someone flicked a switch, Molly's anger, once so intensely turbulent had changed into fear and concern for the well-being of her son.

"Molly, dear," Arthur said soothingly, wrapping an arm around his wife, "I don't think Ronald would be so foolish as to blindly Apparate half-way across the world."

Ginny snorted again, "Sure he would! This _is_ Ron were talking about! He goes off half-cocked and never thinks about the consequences!"

"Gin, hush!" Harry said, trying to quiet her. He really didn't want her making things worse than they were…and they were pretty bad already.

"No, Harry…I will _not_ hush!" she yelled, pulling away from him, "Ron does stupid stuff like this all the time without thinking about anyone but himself!! It would serve him right if he Splinched himself!"

"Ginny!!" Harry yelled, trying to bring his girlfriend back to reality. He nodded his head towards Ron's bed where Mr. Weasley was doing his best to comfort a visibly upset Mrs. Weasley. The angry blush drained from Ginny's face as she realized she'd just made matters worse.

"Oh, Mum! I'm sorry," the girl said, rushing over and giving her mother a hug, "I'm sure he's alright. Ron got plenty of practice Apparating this past year. I'm sure he's fine!"

"I'll go to the Ministry," Arthur said, getting up and moving to the door, "I'll see if I can contact the Australian Ministry and see if they've heard anything. At the very least, they might be able to put us in contact with Hermione, just in case _she's_ heard anything."

After placing a tender kiss atop his wife's head, Arthur made his way down to their bedroom to change and grab his wand. Moments after that was accomplished, he was gone, Disapparating off to the Ministry in search of some much needed information.

Ginny and Harry helped Mrs. Weasley out of Ron's room and down the stairs to the kitchen, intent on making her a nice cup of tea to soothe her nerves. The letter and the underwear were left, forgotten, balled up on top of Ron's orange Chudley Cannons bedspread…at least for now.

_

* * *

_

Gurgle!

The young couple snogging furiously on the bed suddenly came up for air as the redhead's stomach made itself heard loud and clear, taking the magic out of the moment and reducing the frizzy-haired brunette to a fit of giggles.

"Don't laugh, 'Mione," Ron grumbled, sitting up, "I haven't eaten in, like, eighteen hours. Weren't you supposed to bring food up with you?"

"I forgot," Hermione said, shrugging, "I was kind of more concerned with getting up here to be with you, than with finding something for you to eat. Sorry."

"S'okay, love," he leaned down and kissed her on the forehead, "But I need to eat something."

"I can't believe you lasted so long without food," she laughed, mocking him as she got up off the bed, "Eighteen hours must be some kind of record for you!"

"Ha-ha," he grumbled, "Oh sure, take the mickey out of the bloke who's starving to death!"

"Oh Ron, stop being such a baby," Hermione chided, moving across the room towards the loo, "Let me freshen up a bit, and we'll go down and get supper."

Ten minutes later Ron and Hermione were walking hand-in-hand down the steps and into the inn's public room. It wasn't quite Nine O'clock yet, so there was still a large amount of people eating and drinking downstairs. They were just about to get a table when a shout from behind them drew their attention.

"Hermione!"

Hermione turned to see Malcolm Majeebers running towards her. Ron turned as well, but had no idea who this Australian bloke currently running towards his girlfriend was. And when the Aussie reached Hermione and pulled her into a quick hug, Ron began to see red.

"Mal…what are you doing?" Hermione asked, pulling away from him and giving him a look like he was insane.

"I have to tell you something that you may not want to hear," he looked slightly frantic and he took a few deep breaths to calm himself down, "Hermione…it's your boyfriend. He's gone missing."

Ron and Hermione exchanged looks and both began smirking broadly. Mal noticed the exchange between Hermione and the redhead next to her, and was more than a little confused by their reaction. Didn't she care that her boyfriend had disappeared?

"Mal," Hermione said, waving a hand to indicate the tall redhead next to her, "This is Ron Weasley…my _boyfriend_."

"Bloody Hell," Mal said, smiling, as he extended his hand for Ron to shake, "You sure caused an uproar, mate!" Ron took Mal's outstretched hand and shook it, gripping it much too tightly, and causing the Ministry liaison to grimace in pain. "Ahhh! You…ahhh…can let…gehh...go, now!"

"Ron, stop!!" Hermione yelled, smacking him on the arm. Ron let go and she shot him a dirty look that had _that was not funny _written all over it. "You'll have to excuse my _prat_ of a boyfriend, Mal…he gets ridiculously jealous anytime there's a man within a thousand kilometers of me!"

She glared at Ron and he looked away sheepishly, muttering under his breath. "I only get jealous when they hug you."

Hermione turned her attention back to Mal as he massaged some feeling back into his crushed fingers. "Why would you think Ron was missing? And what was that about an uproar?"

"Too right!" Mal exclaimed, casting a disapproving look at Hermione's beau, "Seems Arthur Weasley, at the British Ministry, has been calling in favors and dragging people in on a Sunday to get a Floo call through to _our_ Ministry to try and track down his son…your boyfriend…who just up and disappeared sometime last night."

"Bloody Hell," Ron muttered, suddenly awash with guilt at his sudden departure last night.

"I hadn't heard anything about him showing up here," Mal continued, "So I figured I should come and tell you…and check to see if he might have turned up here. Which it seems he did. From what I understand, mate, your mother's in a right state!"

"Bloody Hell!!" Ron grabbed two handfuls of messy red hair, looking as if he was about to yank it out at the roots, "'Mione, I gotta go!"

"I understand, Ron," Hermione said, smiling up at him. She wanted him to stay, but she knew he couldn't, "Take care of your family. I'll be here when you come back."

Ron gave Hermione a meaningful look that made her shiver. It was a look that said, _"One day, _you_ will be my family." _Hermione found that, the more time she spent with Ron, the more she looked forward to that day when they would be together forever.

"I love you, 'Mione," he said, wrapping her in his arms and kissing her deeply. Her arms snaked around his neck and she returned the kiss wholeheartedly, despite the number of people watching them…including a slightly leering Malcolm Majeebers.

"I love you, too, Ron," she said, fighting back the tears at the thought of him leaving…if only for a little while, "And give my love to your family and tell them I'm sorry!"

Ron gave her his patented lopsided smile, "What're you sorry for? It's not _your_ fault I'm such a prat!"

Hermione smiled and stepped back, knowing that if she didn't let go he'd stay with her until she, herself, returned to England. He returned her smile, although with a bit of sadness. It felt good being reunited...just the two of them. He sighed, took out his wand, and with a loud _crack_ he was gone.

"So…" Mal began, after a few moments of awkward silence after Ron's departure, "That's the bloke you tossed over Viktor Krum for…seems a bit of a hot-head."

"You have no idea," Hermione replied, a dreamy smile on her lips.

Mal couldn't help but chuckle at the look on her face. He moved in close, putting an arm over her shoulder, leaning against her, "Do I get to call you _'Mione_, too?"

A bark of laughter escaped Hermione's lips as she shrugged off Mal's arm and headed back up to her room, "Only if you want Ron to actually _break_ your hand next time."

Mal looked down at his hand, flexing the fingers that were only just now regaining circulation and smiled at her retreating back, "_Hermione_ it is, then."

**-- End Chapter 18 --**

* * *

**Author's End Notes**: Okay, so Ron met Mal...and STILL hasn't gotten anything to eat!! Poor bloke! Things get bumpy for Ron next chapter...and there's a certain squished-faced orange furball who returns!


	19. Letting off Steam

**Author's Notes:** Okay, well, I've been trying to post this chapter for about the last **_FIVE_** hours, but apparently the system was done. I think it was probably Nargles.

Poor Ron, he gets ambushed in this chapter...more than once. You'll see.

All the people who have reviewed my work are awesome and I want to say thanks to them! (**Edinburgh Love**, **Ann Malfoy**, **Cantletharrygo**, **CutewithAcapital-Q**, **fatyellowrat**, **Avanell**, **Dizzy0305**, **katie1985**, **Elytha**, **Trude**, **mugglemama**, **emmy1124**, **Emma.Jane-HPfan**, **Moony3005**, **IsI Wisi**, **Lady Anja**, **embergrl9010**, **the written princess**, **MissFinnegan**, **Tiffany M**, **kareem33**, **randomguy1517**, **Shlesha**, **ronniemione**,** sarah-keyko**, **not for lack of trying**, **Emm04**, **Jacob's-One-Girl**, **Ravenhaired2**, and **Nosta82**)

**Disclaimer:** JKR owns it.

* * *

**"Aftermath"**

**Chapter 19 -- Letting Off Steam**

"RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU'VE DONE?!"

Seconds after Disapparating from _The Dingo's Durry_, Ronald Weasley found himself back inside the familiar cracked and sagging walls of the Burrow. He'd appeared in the kitchen, hoping to grab himself a bite to eat before facing the severity of the full wrath of his mother. Unfortunately for him, he'd Apparated directly into the room where all the Weasleys were congregated at that moment having a strained and uncomfortable lunch.

"Bloody Hell…!!

"DON'T YOU USE THAT FOUL LANGUAGE WITH ME, YOUNG MAN!!"

"Mum, listen, I can explain…" Ron said, backing away from his furious, red-faced mother, holding his hands out in front of him in a defensive gesture.

"CAN YOU RONALD?!" Molly yelled, her brown eyes blazing with anger, "EXPLAIN IT THEN!! EXPLAIN TO ME HOW YOU SEDUCED YOUR POOR INNOCENT GIRLFRIEND AND THEN FOLLOWED HER TO THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WORLD SO YOU COULD…COULD…HAVE A QUICK SHAG!!"

Ron's eyes widened to the point where it seemed as if they explode out of his head and shoot across the room. His mouth gaped open and closed several times but no sound would come out, making him look like a dumbfounded trout.

"Mum…" Ron finally managed to croak out.

"Don't you _Mum_ me, young man!" Molly snapped, stepping up and poking him in the chest with a long, wooden spoon, "How DARE you defile that beautiful little girl with your disgusting animal lusts!! How she must feel! Treated like some…some…SCARLET WOMAN!!"

"Hermione's not a scarlet woman!" Ron looked around at his family for some sort of clue as to what the Hell was going on. Harry and Ginny sat side-by-side, both of them looking down at their roast chicken sandwiches, neither one of them able to meet Ron's gaze.

_"What's _that_ about?"_ Ron wondered, looking from Harry to Ginny to their sandwiches, _"Blimey those sandwiches look good…"_

Tearing his gaze away from the food as his mother poked him rather hard in the chest with her spoon, Ron looked at the other two Weasleys in the room. Ron's dad, Arthur, while not looking as livid as his mother did look a bit cross, no doubt put-out by all the hassle of trying to track him down. George, however, was no longer his happy-go-lucky self of the past few days, and although he didn't seem as devastated as he was right after Fred's death, there was a definite sadness in his eyes.

_Whack!_

"OWW!!" Ron was suddenly brought back to the matter at hand…his angry fireplug of a mother…when she whacked him upside the head rather harshly with the wooden spoon. He began briskly rubbing the offended spot noticing a lump already starting to form.

"PAY ATTENTION TO ME WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU RONALD!!"

"Yes, Mum," Ron replied, "Sorry, Mum."

"And since you love Apparating to Australia so much, Ronald Weasley," Mrs. Weasley continue, spoon waving wildly, "I should make you go back there and tell that sweet girl's parents just exactly what is that you did to their only daughter!! I DIDN'T RAISE YOU TO BE A DISGUSTING RANDY PIG, RONALD!!"

"Mum, you've got it all wrong!" Ron said pleadingly, "Hermione and I haven't --…"

"I saw the _note_, Ronald!" Mrs. Weasley yelled, "AND those…those…FLIMSY KNICKERS!!"

"It's called a _throng_, Mum," Ron replied without really thinking before he spoke, "They're Muggle knickers." As he said this, Ron could see his father's face brighten at the mention of anything Muggle. He also noticed Harry finally look up and make to speak.

"It's a _thong_, Ron."

"Not _helping_!" Ginny hissed harshly, elbowing her boyfriend in the side, causing him to look back down.

"I DON'T BLOODY WELL CARE WHAT THEY'RE CALLED!!" Molly thundered at her son, causing the Burrow's windows to shake, "My teenage son should not have a pair of his girlfriend's knickers in his room!!"

"You searched my room?" Ron asked as realization dawned. The knickers and the letter _had _been hidden.

"I didn't _need_ to search your room, Ronald," his mother yelled, whacking him in the arm with the spoon, "They were lying out on your bed for _anyone_ to see! I'm surprised poor Harry didn't find them and become traumatized! A boy his age shouldn't be seeing a girl's underclothes!"

"We're the _same age_!" Ron yelled, rubbing the spot on his arm his mother had whacked.

"Harry is five months younger, Ronald…and you shouldn't be seeing a girl's knickers either! AND YOU CERTAINLY SHOULDN'T BE SHAGGING!!" With that, Molly cracked him in the knuckles with the spoon as he tried to soothe the spot on his arm she had just hit. He pulled his hand away, waving it in the air to try and get the pain out before holding it gingerly in his other hand.

"WE DIDN'T SHAG!!" Ron yelled, his face turning as red as his mother's. He didn't like to yell at his mum, but she wasn't listening to him. He'd been totally ambushed by this whole thing and he was at his rope's end, "HERMIONE WANTS TO WAIT AND I LOVE AND RESPECT HER TOO MUCH TO PUSH HER!!"

Everyone's attention was now focused on Ron. Even Harry and Ginny who had mostly been watching their sandwiches sit on their plates this entire time. Molly was taken aback by the vehemence with which her son spoke to her, as was Arthur. George seemed to stop focusing on his own sadness enough to pay attention to what his little brother was saying.

"Love is no reason to be messing about and turning a sweet, innocent girl into a --…"

"Call Hermione a scarlet woman again, Mum, and I swear, I'm leaving," Ron didn't raise his voice this time, but he was just as serious as he was when he'd been yelling just a few moments ago. Hermione didn't deserve to be called a scarlet woman, and Ron wasn't about to let _anyone_ call her that.

"And where will you go, Ronald?" Molly asked, narrowing her eyes at her son.

"I dunno," Ron shrugged, "I'll stay at the flat above George's shop…if not there…I'll get a room at the Leaky Cauldron. But I'm not going to stand by and let you call Hermione a _whore_."

Molly gasped when she heard that word come out of her son's mouth, and her eyes widened in shock as realization dawned on her. Her emotions had gotten the better of her. She loved Hermione as one of her own, and she knew when Ron had his way, he would _make_ the girl an official Weasley. She would never say, or even think such horrible things about the girl…despite the evidence to the contrary. She sighed and moved to sit heavily in a chair, her whole body sagging visibly.

"Ronald, I know you love Hermione, and I know she's a good girl. I'm sorry for all the horrible things I said," she looked over at Ginny and Harry, "Sorry for the things I've said about _all_ of you. I'm a bit of an emotional teapot right now…just needed to let loose a bit of steam."

"Mum…" All eyes turned to George as he spoke up for the first time since the yelling had started. He reached over and put his trembling hand atop his mother's hand. "If the worse thing that happens to this family is that Ronnie shags Hermione, then we're pretty lucky. None of us are going to live forever…we need to _live_ while we're alive."

Everyone looked at George, mouths agape. Mrs. Weasley's eyes were tearing up as she thought of the son who was cut down so early in life. She placed her free hand atop George's and lovingly squeezed his shaky hand. She looked around at her family, healthy and alive and she smiled. She had so many blessings in her life, and she was looking at five of them right now.

"Of course you're right, George," Molly said with a shaky voice, "It's a time to live and to love," as she said this, her eyes moved from Harry and Ginny to Ron, "But it's not a time for hanky-panky under my roof! I expect everyone in this house to sleep in _their own beds_ from now on! _And_ for their undergarments to remain in _their own_ _possession_," this last bit she said directly to Ron, and Ron alone, "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Mum."

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley."

"Hermione and I never slept together in my bed, Mum, what did you mean by tha--…_HARRY!!_"

"Don't fret about it, Ronald," Mr. Weasley said, moving over to put himself between Ron and Harry, who was looking about ready to make a run for the back door, "I've had a talk with Harry, and he's already agreed to marry Ginny."

"WHAT?!" Ginny, Ron, George, and Molly Weasley all shouted the same question at the same time, all shooting incredulous looks at the Boy-Who-Lived who still looked to be ready to bolt out the back door.

"Harry? Can I have a _word_ with you in _private_?!" Ginny said harshly, jumping to her feet and dragging Harry out the back door by the arm. He went willingly, but it didn't much look like Harry was going to enjoy his conversation with Ginny.

Ron smiled to himself and was about to help himself to Ginny and Harry's uneaten sandwiches when his father put a hand on his shoulder.

"Ronald, I think it's time you and I had a talk."

* * *

After storming out of the backdoor into the garden, with Harry in tow, Ginny marched down towards the pond, away from any prying eyes…and ears...that might try to snoop in on the conversation she was about to have with Harry Potter…the Boy-Who-Was-Alive-For-Now. They reached the tree that everyone always sat under by the pond and Ginny pushed Harry towards it.

"Sit!" she demanded and, realizing that he was in trouble, Harry did as she told him, "Now, Mr. Potter…is there something you want to tell me?"

She stood over him with her hands on her hips in a very Molly Weasley sort of way. He felt almost as afraid of Ginny as he did the _real_ Molly Weasley…maybe even more, because he _knew_ Ginny wouldn't have qualms about hitting him or casting a Bat Bogey Hex on him.

"Well…uh…that is to say, Gin…uh…no," he stammered, "There is nothing I _want_ to tell you. Uh…except that I love you!"

"Nice try, Potter," she growled, "Do you like your bits where they are? If so, I suggest you tell me why my father said that you _agreed_ to marry me?"

"It's all a big misunderstanding, Gin!" Harry quailed, moving his hands to his lap to cover his bits without realizing he'd done it.

"I hope so, Harry," Ginny said, glaring at him, "This isn't _Roseo and Julian_!"

"_Romeo and Juliet_, Gin," he replied sheepishly, correcting her.

"Whatever, Harry! My point is this isn't the olden days of Shakespair!"

"Shakes_peare_, Gin."

"Who are you…_Hermione_?! I'm trying to make a point!"

"Oh…go ahead."

"I already…GAH!! You frustrate me so much, Harry Potter!!"

"Can I tell you my side of the story now?" he asked, looking up at her hopefully.

"Go ahead," she replied, plopping down into the grass in front of him.

"Okay, well, your dad was giving me that talking-to…and he started off making sure I wasn't traumatized by this whole situation…"

"Figures!" Ginny snorted, "They love _you_ more than their own kids."

"Giiiinnn…"

"Go on…"

"But once he was sure I was okay, he asked me what my intentions were."

"You're intentions?"

"Yeah…whether I was serious about you or…and I can't believe your dad said this…using you for _'a tumble'_."

"Oh my God!" Ginny was so embarrassed she buried her face in her hands. "What did you say?"

"I told him I intended to date you," Harry admitted, causing Ginny to look up at him, quirking an eyebrow at him, her lips a thin, stern line, "And he looked at me a lot like that! So then I said that when you're out of school and we're both ready, I intend to marry you."

"And what did _he_ say?"

"Well he started smiling real big and said he gave me his blessing. But…that does _mean_ anything, right? I mean…we didn't just become betrothed or something, did we?"

Ginny got up and knee-walked towards him, wrapping her hands around his neck, kissing him sweetly on the lips, "It means you just told my father you intend to marry me and he said you could…it means when they get some alone time, he's going to tell my mum…it means if you break up with me, Harry Potter, they won't find enough of you to bury in a matchbox!"

"Oh…good. For a minute there, I was worried! I mean, it's not like I'm stupid enough to break up with you!"

"Not if you know what's good for you, Mr. Potter."

They kissed again, and this time Harry relaxed, enjoying it. He knew what was good for him…and he had no intention of throwing it away. Not now, not ever.

* * *

"Dad, look," Ron said nervously as he and his father walked upstairs to his attic bedroom, "If this is going to be _The Sex Talk_, Bill and Charlie already covered that when I was thirteen."

"Yes, well, that's good then," Arthur laughed nervously, "I was quite dreading that talk. We still need to talk, though, son. Though I hope it won't be as uncomfortable as the talk you had with your brothers."

"It wasn't _that_ bad," Ron said, shrugging as they entered his room, "It was just overwhelming at the time…and Charlie had all these diagrams."

Arthur chuckled and took a seat on Harry's camp bed. Ron looked down at his own bed and quickly stuffed Hermione's letters and knickers back under his pillow. He wasn't anywhere near inconspicuous, but God bless him, his dad just looked the other way, pretending to admire an old, fading Chudley Cannons poster on the wall.

Once his mementos of Hermione were safely tucked away (at least until he found a better hiding place), Ron flopped down on his bed. "Okay, Dad, what did you --AHHHH!!"

As soon as Ron dropped down onto his bed, something shot out from beneath it and attacked his ankles, slashing at them with some very sharp claws.

"What the Blood Hell?! CROOKSHANKS!" Ron yelled as he looked down to see the front legs of Hermione's ginger cat attached to his lower leg. He looked up at his father as he vigorously shook his leg loose from the cat and brought both his legs up onto the bed for safekeeping, "When did Crookshanks get here?"

Arthur chuckled at the scene before him, "Oh, your Aunt Muriel sent him over earlier…the owls, Ginny's pygmy-puff, as well. She was really rather put-out that we hadn't made an effort to pick them up before now. I tried to explain to her that with the fighting and…well…Fred…we hadn't really thought about the animals…but you know how Muriel is."

"A bloody pain in the arse," Ron muttered under his breath.

Arthur coughed loudly, pretending to have not heard his son's comment, but the bedroom was so small, how could he not have, really? "You might want to send her a note, thanking her for seeing to the animals this long."

"I'll get right on that, Dad," Ron lied. For the first time he noticed his owl, Pigwidgeon, asleep in his cage on the dresser, "Is that all we're here to talk about?"

Arthur chuckled again, "No, son, I'm sorry. You don't get off _that_ easily. You've had the sex talk with Bill and Charlie, but after what happened _earlier_," he coughed again, and slightly nodded towards the pillow beneath which the source of this afternoon, "I think we need to talk about respecting women."

"Daaaad…!" Ron rolled his eyes and ran his hands roughly through his hair, "Didn't we cover this downstairs? I _respect_ Hermione. I already told you all that!"

"I believe you son," Mr. Weasley sighed, "It's just…well…we _all_ love Hermione, and we want to make sure you treat her the way she _should_ be treated…like a lady."

"Fine, Dad," Ron sighed, looking up at the ceiling, wishing it would fall in on him right now…anything to get out of this talk with his father.

"Good. I trust you to do the right thing, Ronald," Arthur smiled, "I understand, from your mother, that you plan to propose to Hermione."

Ron nodded, blushing a bit. Talk about all this with his dad was embarrassing, especially knowing what had brought it on: those damn knickers! Those wonderful, exciting, embarrassing knickers!

"Excellent!" Arthur said, clapping his hands together loudly, "A wedding should be just what your mother needs to cheer her up!"

"It won't be for a while, Dad," Ron explained, not wanting his father to get his hopes up for a quick wedding, "Hermione's got another year of school, and I think she wants to wait until we've both got good jobs before we get married."

"Of course she does," Arthur smiled, reaching over and patting his son on the arm, "Got a good head on her shoulders, that one."

"She does," Ron agreed, nodding, and then added in his head, _"And the _rest_ of her is pretty amazing, too!"_

"Now that that bit of business is out of the way," Arthur said, standing up. Ron thought his dad was getting ready to leave, but when he looked up, his father's face had a stern appearance, "I'm really disappointed in you, Ronald."

"What?!" Ron exclaimed, eyes wide in dismay, "What did I do _now_?!"

"This whole business with you Apparating to Australia," Arthur explained, "You really should have told someone before you just ran off like that. You _do_ know what could have happened…"

"Yes, Dad," Ron nodded, looking guiltily down at his feet.

"And then, of course, there's the mess with the Ministry when I tried to track you down," his father continued, pacing the floor of the small bedroom, "Forcing people…in _both_ countries, mind you…to come to work on a Sunday so I can try to locate my bull-headed son just because he missed his girlfriend!"

"It wasn't like that, Dad!" Ron said, trying to defend his actions, "I thought Hermione might be in trouble."

Arthur Weasley looked down at his son. He looked into the young man's eyes and knew he couldn't continue to berate him for what had happened. He'd seen the look in his son's blue eyes before…in another pair of blue eyes gazing back at him from a mirror many years ago. A young man in love could not be restrained. He would do what he had to do for the woman he loved. Arthur understood this and he nodded resignedly.

"Alright then, Ron. I trust everything was handled satisfactorily? Hermione's alright?"

"Yeah, Dad, she's great," Ron smiled. He couldn't _help_ but smile when he thought of Hermione and their time together.

"Just…try to be more responsible from now on," Mr. Weasley said, making his way to the door, "And be careful when you Apparate that far…you know the dangers."

"I know, Dad."

Arthur left his son's bedroom to go in search of his wife. It had been a rather hectic day at the Burrow and he was hoping to get some quiet time before supper was upon them. Percy was bringing a girl over, and that was liable to make even the most mature of his children behave like immature adolescents.

Ron breathed a sigh of relief as his dad left and was determined that now that all the awkwardness was over, he was going to get himself something to eat. It was hours before supper, and he was so hungry that Pig was starting to look like a miniature Christmas turkey…complete with stuffing and cranberry dressing.

The tall redhead started to get out of bed, and as soon as his feet hit the floor, a blaze of ginger fur lashed out from under his bed and started clawing at his ankles again.

"CROOKSHANKS!!"

* * *

"Mum? Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course, George dear, what is it?"

George and Mrs. Weasley were the only ones left in the Burrow's cramped kitchen as the others had gone off to have their talks. Molly had gone about cleaning up after lunch, putting aside the leftover food for when Ron came in search of something to eat. George had been sitting at the table after finishing his sandwich and was contemplatively sipping a cup of tea.

"Would you be upset if I moved back out?" he asked, casting a glance over his shoulder, "If I moved back to the flat over the shop?"

"I…well…I certainly didn't think she'd be staying here forever," she answered, slowly, turning to look at her son. She could almost picture Fred sitting next to him…almost, "I just…do you think you're ready?"

George slowly got to his feet and walked to his mother, wrapping his arms around her in an uncharacteristic show of affection, "I miss him, Mum. I loved him so much…he wasn't just my brother, he was my best friend. But…I think…I think he'd want me to do this. It's time to start living again, and to start moving on. It's time to start healing."

"Of course it is, dear," Molly said, hugging her son tight as tears flowed down her cheeks, "Do you really think you'll get along alright by yourself?"

"Well about that…" George pulled back and looked down at his mum, handing her a nearby dishtowel so she could wipe her tears, "I was thinking of taking Ronnie with me."

"Your brother?" Molly asked, taken aback. The two of them had never gotten along very well; the twins were always teasing him, and poor Ron was always getting so angry at them.

"I think it would be good for him to be on his own," George explained, "He's a grown man with a job, and in a couple of years he's going to have a wife and a house of his own. This'll be good practice for him…of course, I'm not nearly the nag his beloved _'Mione_ is!"

George smiled, and Molly smiled along with him, "Stop! She's a wonderful girl!"

"Of course she is," he went on, still smiling, "And _I_ won't go all barmy when she leaves her knickers lying around."

"George!" Molly smacked him in the arm.

"I'm only taking the mickey out of you, Mum," he replied kissing her on the cheek.

"Well, if you're sure you'd want Ron for a flat-mate…" she said, thinking about her son's decision.

"I can't think of anyone I'd rather share a flat with than ickle Ronniekins," George said with a broad smile.

Mrs. Weasley knitted her brow and suddenly looked a bit cross, "George Weasley, if you plan on torturing that poor boy every day with your silly Wheezes…then you can just forget about it right now!"

"Not at all, Mum," George grinned, "Ron's been a real help to me lately and I…well…I know I can count on him if things get…bad."

Molly brought a hand up and stroked her son's cheek in a loving, motherly fashion. He needed a shave desperately…and a haircut couldn't hurt either. But she knew this wasn't the time to bring those things up. There would be time for that later. She smiled at him and nodded.

"Alright, then, George. If Ron wants to share a flat with you, then I suppose I'm fine with it."

"Thanks, Mum," George said, giving her another hug, "And don't you worry…we'll be over _all the time_ for that great _Mum's home-cooking_!"

Arthur entered the kitchen as his wife and son were sharing a laugh. He smiled at the scene. It had been so long since Molly had laughed. It was music to his ears.

"Molly dear," Arthur said from the door, "Why don't we go and relax a bit before supper needs doing? Goodness knows you deserve it after your stressful morning."

"That sounds lovely, Arthur," Molly smiled, shuffling over to her husband, "George, be a dear and let Ronald know I put some sandwiches aside for him. Oh, and Harry and Ginny, too. They didn't touch their lunch."

"Of course, I will, darling mother of mine," George said with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Molly was about to say something to discourage him from pulling any of his pranks on anyone in the house, but Arthur took her hand and led her out of the kitchen.

"Come on, Mollywobbles," Arthur said, whispering in her ear before planting a kiss on her temple, "George will be fine."

Molly and Arthur left the room and George smiled brightly. He looked upwards and smiled, reaching his hands in his pockets. "Oh, brother dear…there's just not enough _laughter_ here anymore! Let's see if I can change that. This one's for you, Fred!"

George slowly and methodically placed small bits of something he had in his pockets on each and every one of the leftover sandwiches. He was just finishing up as he heard Ron come bounding down the steps. Quickly, George took his seat back at the table and adopted his best innocent face.

"'Lo, George," Ron said as he limped into the room.

"Hello, ickle Ronnie," George said with a smile.

Ron rolled his eyes and wondered for a second if the conversation was going to continue…if he was only going to privy to half the conversation because the other half occurred in George's head. He waited for a few moments and when George didn't say anything else, he made his way, gingerly, over to the plate of leftover sandwiches sitting on the sideboard.

"What's with the limp?" George asked, smiling as his brother plated two of the sandwiches and brought them over to the table.

"Bloody Crookshanks," Ron grumbled, as he lifted his trouser leg to show George the scratches and the large bite mark on the back of his Achilles' tendon, "He was hiding in wait under my bed. The manky little bugger ambushed me as soon as I sat down."

George broke out into laughter over his brother's plight and despite his discomfort, Ron smiled. George wasn't talking to himself…something had happened. Something good, as far as Ron was concerned. There was still sadness in George's eyes, but there was laughter, too, and Ron couldn't help but feel like his talk with Fred's grave-marker did some good.

"I've been meaning to talk to you, Ronnie," George said once he stopped laughing at his brother.

"What about?" asked Ron as he took a bite of his sandwich. There was an odd taste to the food. "Why's this taste like peppermint?"

George started laughing again, and Ron shot him a dirty look.

"What did you _do_ George?" Ron asked angrily. He was about to accuse his brother of tampering with the food when suddenly, Ron felt a tingling in his lips. Before he could say or do anything, Ron's lips started to pucker tightly of their own accord. "Wuht duh heww?"

George burst out laughing, nearly falling out of his chair. He pointed at his brother's face, guffawing at the pursed lips and the angry expression as his brother seethed.

"Puckering Peppermints!!" George screamed in amusement, "Makes your lips pucker like that 'til somebody kisses you!!"

Ron growled at his brother and threw his sandwich down, storming from the room, "Bwuddy Heww!!"

**-- End Chapter 19 --**

**Author's End Notes:** Hope everyone enjoyed this. (I had longer notes at the front and end of this story, but they got eaten by the Nargles.)


	20. Meet the Family

**Author's Notes: **I'm very sorry that last night's chapter was so late being posted. I logged on to post it around 4:00 PM (U.S. EDT) and the system was down. I tried continually to get on, and it wasn't until after 9:00 that things were back to normal. But, it's up and hopefully you've all had a chance to read it before you move on to today's chapter.

What can I say about this chapter? It was a lot of fun to write, and hopefully it will be a lot of fun to read. I really don't want to give anything away, but I especially enjoyed writing the Ron/Viktor battle. It may not be what everyone was hoping for a few chapters back, but _I'm_ hoping it will slake, at least a little, everyone's thirst for Bulgarian blood.

Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to give this story a read. And thank you to all the awesome readers who have reviewed "Aftermath", many of them multiple times, letting me know they enjoy the story: **Edinburgh Love**, **Ann Malfoy**, **Cantletharrygo**, **CutewithAcapital-Q**, **fatyellowrat**, **Avanell**, **Dizzy0305**, **katie1985**, **Elytha**, **Trude**, **mugglemama**, **emmy1124**, **Emma.Jane-HPfan**, **Moony3005**, **IsI Wisi**, **Lady Anja**, **embergrl9010**, **the written princess**, **MissFinnegan**, **Tiffany M**, **kareem33**, **randomguy1517**, **Shlesha**, **ronniemione**,** sarah-keyko**, **not for lack of trying**, **Emm04**, **Jacob's-One-Girl**, **Ravenhaired2**, and **Nosta82**...each and every one of you are the wind beneath my wings!

I'm posting tonight's chapter just a skosh early, in order to make up for last night's unavoidable late-posting debacle.

"Aftermath" is rated M for language and naughty stuff (like sex and knickers and manly bits and whatnot!).

**Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling is the owner of the Harry Potter universe. So, thanks for creating this stuff, J.K., it's a blast playing with your characters!

Without further ado (thanks to the much ado about nothing this Author's Note has become), here's Chapter 20...

* * *

**"Aftermath"**

**Chapter 20 -- Meet the Family**

Sunday proceeded to move by quickly for the Weasleys. Ron spent most of the day sulking in his room, unable to get his lips from puckering. Crookshanks had made his way outside to chase gnomes in the garden, so Ron had a little peace and quiet...at least until a strange owl came pecking at his window. The owl, which glared impatiently at him, had letters for Ron, Harry, Ginny, and his parents. The letters were from Hermione.

He tossed the other letter aside, intent on distributing them to his family at dinner. He lay down in bed and ripped into his own letter. As soon as he did, it became obvious that this was an old letter.

Hermione wrote of how she missed him, how nervous she was of going to see her parents, and she wrote about her dinner with Krum and his drunken advances and her calling him a _git_. At this point she begged Ron not to get worked up over Krum, because she loved _him_ and not Viktor. She finished by telling him how much she loved in and couldn't wait to be in his arms again.

Ron would have smirked, if he could un-pucker his lips, as he finished the letter and tucked it under his pillow with the other recent additions there. The letter from Hermione was old news, but any chance to read her writing, to smell her scent on the parchment…even though he'd been with her a few short hours ago…it always made him feel close to her…and content.

All that being said, Ron was still looking forward to later tonight when he would be Apparating back to Hermione's side, even if it was just to help her parents pack, and not to snog. Any time spent with Hermione was quality time. Thinking about her made Ron smile, and he would be now…if his bloody lips would un-pucker!!

When it came time for supper, Ron finally left his room. He was absolutely famished. He'd had _one_ bite of sandwich in the last twenty-six hours. If he didn't get something to eat soon, he felt sure he was going to waste away to nothing.

Okay, that was a bit of exaggeration on Ron's part, but it was a ridiculously long period of time to go without food, especially for Ron Weasley who, it seemed, was _always_ hungry and able to stuff his face with enough food to feed several people and still come back for seconds.

Sunday supper at the Burrow was always somewhat special; as much of the family as possible always made an effort to make it to dinner. Charlie, of course, was unable to leave his dragon-keeping job in Romania, and of course, Hermione was in Australia, but every other member of the Weasley family…both natural-born and honorary…was in attendance.

By the time Ron made it downstairs and into the backyard where the table had been set up for the night's meal, Bill and Fleur had already arrived from Shell Cottage, and Percy had already Apparated in from his flat in London…along with his new girlfriend, Audrey. Everyone was engrossed in polite conversation until Ron walked through the back door…and they all started laughing at him.

"What the Hell, little brother," Bill laughed, slapping the table as Ron made his way towards them, "You go and French kiss a lemon or something?"

"I think he looks like the hind-end of a duck!" Ginny laughed, taking great pleasure in the reddening of her brother's face.

"Don't feel too bad, mate," Harry smiled, "George got me and Ginny with those Puckering Peppermint sandwiches, too."

"Hud joo fwix ik?" Ron asked from behind his, now, painfully puckered lips.

"I told you how fix it, Ronniekins," George said, leaning over and slapping his little brother on the back, "Someone's got to _kiss_ you!"

"Harry and I kissed each other," Ginny said with a broad smile, glad that the person _she_ loved was available for convenient snogging, especially in unusually rare circumstances such as this.

"There ya' go, Ronnie," Bill laughed, "Get Harry to kiss you! That'll fix you up!"

Ron was about to shoot his oldest brother a _two-finger-salute_, when Fleur smacked her husband hard on the arm.

"Beell! Be nize! Can you not see 'e eez embareessed enough azz eet eez?"

"Fix your brother, George!" Mrs. Weasley yelled, "This is supposed to be a nice family dinner, and poor Ronald can't even eat!"

"I _can't_ fix him, Mum!" George laughed, "He's got to be kissed…by the opposite sex! So that leaves _me_ out! Ginny?"

"Eww! No! He's my brother!" she yelled, making a face.

"How 'bout you, Audrey?" George asked with a wink, "You have no familial ties to ickle Ronniekins. Surely your only objection could be how hideous he looks." George, Bill, Ginny and Harry all laughed at that. Audrey blushed and looked down at her plate, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley scowled at their one-eared son while Ron growled ineffectually at him.

"Audrey shan't be kissing young Ronald," Percy said, reaching over to pat his girlfriend's hand, "I'd much prefer it if her kissing activities with our family was limited solely to myself. Perhaps you could kiss Ronald, Mother?"

"Oh, Bloody 'Ell!! I'll do eet!" Fleur said jumping to her feet exasperatedly, smacking Bill in the back of the head as she moved towards Ron, "Eet ees just a keess!"

"Hey!" Bill protested, not wanting his wife to kiss his baby brother.

"Oh grow up, Beell! I 'ave keessed Ronald before!"

A sea full of shocked faces met Fleur's statement. Before anyone could ask her to clarify, she had grabbed Ron, pulled him to his feet and planted her lips on his in a quick, meaningless kiss. When she was done, Fleur smacked George in the back of the head before returning to her seat.

"Eediot!"

Ron dropped heavily into his chair as his lips returned to normal. His ears, however, were still a bright Weasley red. "Thanks, Fleur," Ron said not meeting anybody's gaze as he began to pile food on his plate. Across the table he could hear his best friend chuckling at him. "Sod off, Harry."

"Hang on, now!" Bill said loudly, looking back-and-forth between his wife and his little brother, "When the Hell did you kiss Ron?!"

**(A/N: **_**Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire**_**, pg. 506…it doesn't say HOW she kissed him, and neither did Fleur just now!)**

After the kiss, dinner proceeded normally for a Weasley family dinner…a lot of food, a lot of friendly conversation, and some rather inappropriate jokes courtesy of George. Audrey seemed a bit overwhelmed at first, but eventually the warmth of the Weasley family engulfed her, and by the time she and Percy Disapparated back to his flat, she felt as if she belonged to the Weasley clan.

Ron had heard his mother whisper, _"Hold on to this one," _to Percy just before he left the Burrow with a _pop_. Ron couldn't help smiling as he made his way back upstairs to his attic bedroom. Ron knew his Mum was dying to plan another Weasley wedding. It was only a matter of how long before it happened, and who would be the first one to take the plunge. Percy was a much better candidate than either himself or Ginny, since he already had a good job and a flat of his own.

Of course, he hadn't known his girlfriend as long as he'd known Hermione or Ginny'd known Harry, but Percy had, officially, been dating Audrey longer than either of the younger Weasleys had been dating their significant others. It just made sense that he would beat his younger siblings to the altar.

When Ron reached his bedroom, he found Crookshanks curled up in the middle of his bed, sleeping peacefully, and Ron couldn't help but smile. He and the bandy-legged ginger cat didn't get along very well, but it was Hermione's, and for that reason alone Ron couldn't help but have a fondness for the beast. Even he was constantly being attacked by the furry monster.

Ron looked at the battered alarm clock next to his bed. It was already 9:30 at the Burrow, and as Ron did the math, he figured it was already morning…half-past-six…in Australia. Hermione would be up…or at least she would be up soon. He was hoping to surprise her and slip into bed with her while she slept. He sighed, running his fingers through his hair; he could always surprise her tomorrow.

Ron took out his wand and was just about to Disapparate to Australia to spend some time with Hermione when George came walking into his room.

"Oi, Ronniekins!"

"_Must_ you call me that, George?" Ron asked, grimacing at his brother.

"Uhm…" George put a finger to chin, looking thoughtful…it was all an act, of course, "Yes! I _must_ call you Ronniekins! Seriously, though…I wanted to discuss something with you."

"_Seriously_? You? Have you _ever_ been serious, George?"

"Sod off, Ronnie!" George frowned, "I mean it! I want to talk to you about something."

"Well, hurry up, George! I was about to…"

"About to go popping off to visit your girlfriend in the _Land Down Unda_?" George said with a smile, adopting a fake Australian accent as he spoke, "Does Mum and Dad know?"

"Yes!" Ron snapped, "Can we _please_ get this over with?"

"Fine. I've decided to move back to the flat above the joke shop," George said, getting serious finally, "And I wanted to invite you to move in with me."

"Pull the other one!" Ron scoffed.

"I'm not having you on, Ron," George said, smiling, making a point _not_ to call him _Ronniekins_, "I know what you've been doing for me. You've been a great help with keeping an eye on me while I was…"

"Mad as a barking fish?" Ron smirked. **(A/N: Okay, not sure where THAT came from…it just kinda popped into my head and I thought it was an interesting turn-of-phrase, so…)**

"I was going to say _not myself_, but okay."

"I'll have to think about it, George," Ron wasn't sure he _wanted_ to live with George. If he tortured him in a house full of people, what would he do when it was just the two of them?

"Let me just say something that might aid in your decision-making…" George said with a smile on his lips, "Unsupervised. Overnight. Girlfriend. Visitation."

Ron's eyes widened and a cheeky grin spread across his face. Before he even realized he was saying it, Ron shouted, "I'll do it!!"

* * *

_"Mmmmm…Ron…" Hermione moaned as she and Ron shared a passionate kiss as their bodies moved together in perfect rhythm. This was heaven to her; this was everything that had ever been written about love, ever. She was making love to Ron and nothing else could ever be this good, "Ohhh…Ronnnn!"_

_"Mmmmmmm'Mione…!"_

_She giggled as he moaned her name like that. It sent tingles to the most wonderful reaches of her body. She ran her fingers through his thick red hair as she felt his weight on top of her, crushing her in the most exquisite fashion imaginable._

_"Say it again," she whispered, chewing on his earlobe, "Say my name again!"_

_"Herm-own-ninny!"_

_Hermione gasped and looked up. Floating above them, dressed in his scarlet-and-black Quidditch robes and reclining cockily on his broom, was Viktor Krum. She and Ron disengaged themselves and jumped to their feet. It was then that she noticed the word _"Seeker"_ in bold, glowing letters across Viktor's chest._

_"I vant you, Herm-own-ninny, and I haff come SEEKING you! You cannot escape me!"_

_Hermione was about to open her mouth and lay into Viktor with some rather nasty words, when Ron…her darling Ron…leapt in front of her dressed in his own scarlet-and-_gold_ Quidditch robes, the word _"Keeper"_ bold and glowing across his robes._

_"Sod off, you barmy git!" Ron yelled, fists balling up in anger, "She's MINE and I'm KEEPING her!"_

_Hermione blushed golden as Ron jumped to her protection. Her body tingled and she looked down, suddenly realizing she wasn't _blushing_ golden…she _was_ golden…with four little wings flapping furiously on her back bearing her aloft. She was dressed like a Golden Snitch!!"_

_"You are just a poor little boy," Viktor scoffed dismounting his broom, Vhile I am the most famous Qvidditch player in the vorld!"_

_"I may be a boy, you duck-footed toss-pot," Ron growled, getting in Viktor's face, "But I'll do _you_!"_

_With that, Ron hauled off and cracked Viktor Krum square in the jaw. Viktor spun around twice in a very comical manner before collapsing to the ground under his own weight. Hermione applauded as she flitted and flew above the two combatants._

_"Weasley is my king!!" Hermione yelled, waving a red-and-gold banner with the Gryffindor lion proudly emblazoned on it, "He never will let Viktor win! That's why his Hermione sings…Weasley is my King!!"_

_Viktor slowly got back to his feet and pulled out his wand._

_"I vant Herm-own-ninny," he growled, looking up at her, "But if I cannot haff her, then no von vill haff her!"_

_He aimed his wand at Hermione as she flew above them in erratic patterns, hovering just behind a set of Quidditch hoops._

"Awada Kadawra!"

_Suddenly, a sickeningly green ball of light, shaped remarkably like a Quaffle flew out of Krum's wand and began sailing straight at Hermione. She screamed, knowing what would happen next. To her surprise, however, she was saved as Ron, now astride his Cleansweep 11 blocked the Quaffle, keeping the killer ball of light from scoring a hit on the woman he loved. He then swatted the green ball back at Viktor, hitting him with the Killing Quaffle and making the Quidditch star dissolve into a pool of greenish goo._

_"No! I am melting! Melting!! Vot a vorld that some stupid little boy could kill some von so rich and famous as me!"_

_Flying alongside Hermione the Snitch, Ron wrapped his arms around her and pulled her onto the broom with him. He kissed her deeply and loving, gently stroking her hair as their lips became one. When they finally broke the kiss, Hermione looked deep into his eyes and smiled._

_"I believe your Quidditch robes are correct, Mr. Weasley…you ARE a Keeper! Which is why I think I'll keep you."_

_"That's good to know."_

"That's good to know."

Hermione gasped as she woke to the sound of Ron's voice next to her. As she opened her eyes and desperately tried to focus on the fuzzy shape in front of her, a lopsided smile and two piercing blue eyes took shape, along with freckles and a mop of red hair.

"Ron!" she smiled, wrapping her arms around him.

"So I'm a keeper, huh?" he asked, leaning in to plant a tender kiss on her lips.

"You heard that?" she asked, blushing, "I was dreaming."

"Oh?"

"But yeah…you're a keeper," she smiled, snuggling into his chest, "I'm definitely going to keep you."

"Good to hear, love," he said as he planted a kiss atop her head.

"How long have you…aaauuuhhh…been here?" Hermione asked, covering her mouth as she yawned.

"I dunno," Ron shrugged, "'Bout an hour, I guess. When I got here, I expected you to be up and about…you were always an early riser at Hogwarts. Imagine my surprise to find you still abed when I Apparated in. So, I just crawled in bed and watched you sleep."

"What time _is_ it?" she asked, not wanting to get up and leave the warmth and comfort of her boyfriend's arms.

"'Bout Eight O'clock," he said matter-of-factly.

"Bloody Hell!" Hermione yelled, pulling away from Ron violently and jumping out of bed on her way to the loo.

"'Mione, you swore!" Ron laughed, looking at her with surprise in his eyes.

"I'm supposed to be at my parents' house at Nine, Ron!" she yelled, explaining her outburst, "I'm supposed to meet Mal downstairs at 8:30…I'm running _late_ Ron, so cut me some slack!"

She slammed the door to the loo and seconds later Ron could hear the shower running. He smiled and chuckled to himself. _"You still swore…"_

Twenty-seven hectic (for Hermione) minutes later, Hermione and Ron left _The Dingo's Durry_. Standing outside waiting for them (well, for _her_ really, he didn't know Ron would be there) was Malcolm Majeebers. He smiled and waved at the brown-haired young woman but didn't extend the same courtesy to her boyfriend.

"'Morning, Hermione," Mal said as she approached, "I didn't know you were bringing your bloke with you today. I do hope there won't be any more emergency Floo calls about you this morning."

Ron scowled at the Aussie's joke at his expense. When she noticed the look on her boyfriend's face, she elbowed him in the ribs.

"Be nice."

Ron glared down at her. _"Be nice? He's the one being an arse-hat!"_

Hermione glared back, and Ron rolled his eyes.

"Good morning, Mal," Ron said, stiffly. He held out his hand for the other man to shake, the vaguest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"No hard feelings then about my like laugh?" Mal smiled. He was about to shake hands with Ron when realization dawned. He pulled his hand back and shoved it in his pocket, "Uh…that's okay…I like my fingers arranged the way they are."

Ron shrugged and pulled his hand back. A satisfied grin crossed his lips until he noticed Hermione looking up at him with a sour face. He quirked his eyebrows as if to say, _"What?"_ and she furrowed her brow as if to say, _"Be NICE!"_

Noticing the odd looks between the young couple, Mal cleared his throat and motioned towards the exit of Bunyip Plaza. "The car's waiting, shall we go?"

Ron and Hermione followed Mal out of the secret entrance to Bunyip Plaza to the waiting Ministry car out on the street. Half-an-hour later, the black auto was pulling up out front of the quaint little house belonging to her parents. There was a _For Sale: SOLD_ sign on the lawn from a local realtor that hadn't been there yesterday.

"That was fast," Hermione commented, pointing to the sign as they made their way up the concrete walkway towards the house.

"Just one of the perks of having contacts within the Ministry," Mal said, puffing out his chest a bit and sounding just a bit pompous. He immediately reminded Ron of Percy from a few years ago, causing the redhead to snort in derision. This drew a disgruntled look from Mal, "Problem, mate?"

"He has allergies!" Hermione said quickly before Ron could open up his mouth and say something insulting. Ron gave her a quizzical look, before smirking and speaking up for himself.

"Yeah, I'm allergic to bull--…"

"BULLWEED POLLEN!!" Hermione yelled quickly, she waved her hand in front of her face as if to clear away the imaginary allergens, "He's terribly allergic to bullweed pollen and there's just bullweed everywhere out here! He'll be alright, though."

Mal shrugged and continued up to the house while Hermione turned on her heel and grabbed the front of Ron's shirt, her eyes blazing.

"Now you listen here, Ronald Weasley," she said to him in an angry whisper, "He is helping me and my parents, so…You! Be! Nice!" She poked him in the chest as she said each of the last three words in order to add emphasis.

"He's a poncey little git!" Ron grumbled, rubbing his chest where her poking had gotten much too vigorous, "Going on about his Ministry contacts…he's like Percy!"

"Oh, he's not _that_ bad," she scoffed.

"You're right," he amended, "He's worse. This git fancies you!"

"Oh, he does _not_," Hermione rolled her eyes at the absurdity of her boyfriend's statement, "Why is it anytime a guy speaks to me, you assume that they fancy me? You did this all through Hogwarts, and it was annoying _then_. It's closing in on infuriating _now_."

"Can I help it if I happen to think that you're the most amazing woman alive and that every guy with a brain would find you fanciable?" he shrugged, his ears going red, "_I_ couldn't stop fancying you and you _know_ how badly we got on in the beginning."

"You know, Ron, you are just completely _insufferable_!" Hermione's tone was a stern one, but Ron could see something else in her eyes, "You act like a complete jealous prat and make me want to slug you, and then out of nowhere you say something so sweet…"

He grinned cheekily as she wrapped her arms around him and snuggled her head into his chest. Ron wrapped his own arms around her in return, knowing that he had once again narrowly avoided a blazing row. His smile faded quickly, though, as she stepped back out of the hug and punched him hard in the shoulder.

"But you _still_ have to be _nice_!!"

Hermione turned and walked quickly up the concrete path to the front door where Mal was waiting for her. Ron hurried after her and reached the two of them as the front door opened up and a woman that Ron recognized as Mrs. Granger stepped out and gave Hermione a hug. The woman looked up as Ron reached the small porch and her eyes widened in surprise.

"Ronald Weasley, is that you?"

"Yes, ma'am, Mrs. Granger," Ron nodded, smiling sheepishly. He hadn't had much contact with Hermione's parents over the years, more-or-less seeing them only when they came to pick Hermione up at King's Cross at the end of the year, or that one time the Weasleys and Grangers had run into each other in Diagon Alley during Second Year. As a result, he was more than a little nervous around them; more-so now that they were his _girlfriend's_ parents, instead of just his _best friend's_ parents.

"Ron came down to help," Hermione said, beaming with pride at her boyfriend…even if he was slightly prat-like at times, "But he can only stay for a couple of hours…he has to go to work."

"Oh, well, it's sweet of you to give up your free time to help us out, Ron," Mrs. Granger said, stepping up and giving him a hug. Ron stiffened at the contact, not sure how to react. He wound up awkwardly patting the woman lightly on the back, causing her to chuckle.

"Anything for 'Mione and her parents," he replied, blushing to the tips of his ears.

"''_Mione'_?" Mrs. Granger asked, smiling as she let the three of them into the house.

"It's a nickname, Mum," Hermione said, blushing.

"But a nickname only _Ron_ gets to call her," Mal said in a mocking, sing-song voice, "I tried to call her that and she threatened me with bodily harm!"

"Hermione!" Mrs. Granger gasped, shooting a disappointed look at her daughter, "We didn't raise you to threaten people."

Hermione shot Mal a dirty look before turning to her mother, looking apologetic, "I know, Mum. I'm sorry."

"Still think he's not a poncey git?" Ron asked, whispering into Hermione's ear.

"Shh!" she hissed not wanting him to be overheard. She didn't say so, but Hermione was starting to agree with her boyfriend.

Mrs. Granger led them into the living room where they all sat. Ron and Hermione sat together on the couch and Ron instinctively put his arm around her, but pulled back when he felt her stiffen at his touch. He looked at her questioningly, but she would not meet his gaze. Mal pretended not to notice from the stuffed chair across from them, but he couldn't help smiling slightly.

"Who'd like some tea?" Elizabeth Granger asked brightly once everyone was seated comfortably, she made her way towards the small kitchen at the back of the house.

Mal jumped up as she made to leave, "How 'bout I give you a hand, Mrs. Granger? There are a few details we need to go over."

"Of course, Mal," she said, smiling brightly, "You know, I never knew the wizard government could be so helpful with Muggle affairs."

"We do have our moments," he said proudly as they left the room.

"Mum?" Hermione called, "Where's Daddy?"

"I'm up here, Pumpkin!" a man's voice called from upstairs, "Be down in a tick!"

Once they were alone in the living room, Ron put a tentative hand on Hermione's shoulder and felt her go stiff again. She cast an apologetic look towards her boyfriend, before looking nervously towards the door her mother left through and then casting an equally nervous glance towards the stairs.

"They don't know about us, do they?" Ron asked, frowning as he cottoned on to Hermione's sudden behavior. He pulled his hand away from her and ran it through his hair, sighing heavily.

"Ron, you have to understand," Hermione began, her brown eyes pleading with him to do just that, "They only just remembered who they are…who _I_ am! They had a lot to take in yesterday, and I didn't want to bombard them with needless information."

Ron quailed at what she said, and hurt flashed within his eyes. Hermione's eyes widened as she realized what she had just said.

"Ron…I don't mean that us being together is _needless information_," she said, wishing that things could just be easy for them for once, "They just didn't _need_ to _know_ last night. It's not like I _knew_ you were going to be here today."

"I know," he mumbled, looking down at his feet, "I just…I need to know it's not because you're embarrassed of me."

He glanced up at her and there in his blue eyes was all the insecurity he had ever felt about himself. Her heart felt as if it were breaking as she gazed into those eyes.

"Ronald Weasley, you listen to me!" she said sternly, trying to make sure she had his undivided attention, taking his hand and holding it tight, "I am _not_ embarrassed of you…or of _us_. I love you, and I feel like the luckiest girl alive that I have you in my life. And I'm going to show you right now!"

The sound of her father's footsteps coming down the stairs sent Hermione into action. She jumped up off the couch and grabbed Ron's hand, pulling him to his feet. When her father reached the bottom of the steps, he smiled at his daughter and moved over quickly for a hug. Once they broke apart, John Granger set his dark brown eyes on the tall, redheaded young man in front of him.

"While it's been some time since I've seen you at the train station, and admittedly, you've grown up a bit…but I'd swear you're Ronald Weasley," Mr. Granger said, deadpan. He fixed a stern gaze upon Ron for several seconds until a friendly smile broke out and he offered the redhead his hand, "How have you been young man? And your parents…how are they? Is your father still obsessed with non-magical appliances?"

"I'm fine, sir," Ron said, nervously, reaching out and giving Mr. Granger's hand a firm (but not bone-crushing) shake, "My family's…uh…good. And yeah, Dad still loves his Muggle artifacts."

"Where's the other one?" Dr. Granger asked with a grin, looking around the living room, "Where's Harry Potter? Surely the Three Musketeers haven't broken up?"

"Harry's back in England with the Weasleys," Hermione explained, moving to stand next to Ron. She took a deep breath and reached down to take Ron's hand. He jumped slightly, but took her hand in his own after a second, "It's just me and Ron, Daddy…just me and my boyfriend."

**-- End Chapter 20 --**

**Author's End Notes:** Hopefully everyone enjoyed that. Now, for the BAD NEWS: my new chapter per day schedule may be coming to an end. I have a new chapter for tomorrow, but I haven't finished the chapter that would go up on Friday. I'm doing my best to write a chapter a day to keep up with the schedule, but I'm not foolish enough to think I'll be able to maintain that pace indefnitely. We'll see how things go...hopefully the schedule holds up, but I wanted to warn everyone in case it stopped.

BlackHawk13

* * *


	21. Of Fathers and Brothers

**Author's Notes: **Ron has a talk with Dr. Granger this chapter, while Harry's got to deal with two of Ginny's brothers. (I don't really have much to say here, since I'm trying to keep a 5 year old occupied right now.) I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to give this story a read. And thank you to all the awesome readers who have reviewed "Aftermath", many of them multiple times, letting me know they enjoy the story: **Edinburgh Love**, **Ann Malfoy**, **Cantletharrygo**, **CutewithAcapital-Q**, **fatyellowrat**, **Avanell**, **Dizzy0305**, **katie1985**, **Elytha**, **Trude**, **mugglemama**, **emmy1124**, **Emma.Jane-HPfan**, **Moony3005**, **IsI Wisi**, **Lady Anja**, **embergrl9010**, **the written princess**, **MissFinnegan**, **Tiffany M**, **kareem33**, **randomguy1517**, **Shlesha**, **ronniemione**,** sarah-keyko**, **not for lack of trying**, **Emm04**, **Jacob's-One-Girl**, **Ravenhaired2**, and **Nosta82**, **Aly-Cat 101**, **EnglishGirlVerity **and** marauders rox**...your awesomeness knows no bounds!

This story is rated M for language and naughty stuff.

**Disclaimer: **JKR owns the lot of it!

* * *

**"Aftermath"**

**Chapter 21 -- Of Fathers and Brothers**

Sunday supper at the Weasleys broke up about an hour after the sun went down. Ron and George had already gone into the house…Mr. Weasley was speaking animatedly with Bill and Fleur near the back door…Mrs. Weasley was saying her goodbyes to Percy and Audrey as they prepared to Apparate back to Percy's flat…Harry and Ginny sat under the tree near the pond watching fireflies dance in mid-air above the water.

Harry had his arm around Ginny and she had her head resting comfortably on his shoulder as they enjoyed the peace and quiet of the mild spring night. It had been quite the hectic day, and Harry couldn't help but feel as though there were eyes on him the entire time he sat in the dark next to Ginny.

"Your mum is never going to let us alone again, you know," Harry sighed, squeezing her shoulder.

"We'll just have to find something to distract her, so she's too busy to watch us," Ginny replied, her mind already spinning, "George and Ron will be around. I'm sure they'll keep her busy."

"When they're not at the shop," Harry added, pointing out a possible flaw in her plan.

"Well…" Ginny knew she was about to tread into dangerous territory, but she thought it was worth a shot, "If you went back for your Seventh Year, we'd have, like, nine months away from any sort of parental influence. Imagine all the quality snogging we could get in…!"

"Gin…" Harry's voice had a hardness to it, and Ginny flinched. She knew it was a dangerous topic, but she had to take that chance, "I'm not going back to Hogwarts, and I don't want to keep having this conversation."

Harry pulled away from Ginny and started to get up when he noticed Bill walking down the garden towards them.

"Fleur and I are getting ready to Floo home," Bill said as he reached the tree, "Just wanted to say goodbye…and to tell you that Mum wanted you Gin."

"'Bye, Bill," Ginny said, jumping to her feet and hugging her big brother as tight as she could. He hugged back for all he was worth, and planted a loving, brotherly kiss on the top of her head, "I'll see you next Sunday."

"Okay, Bill," Ginny waved goodbye and hurried up to the house to see her mother, "I'll be right back, Harry."

Harry was about to reply to Ginny when Bill clapped a rather firm hand on his shoulder and turned the Boy-Who-Lived to face him, "Let's you and I have a talk, Harry."

"Uh…okay, Bill…what about?"

Bill looked off beyond Harry at the white, swollen orb of the moon. It would be full tomorrow, and even though he wasn't a werewolf, thanks to Fenrir Greyback during the fight at Hogwarts when Snape killed Dumbledore, Bill could feel the pull…the power…of the moon. It pulsed through his veins and pounded in his ears…he fought the pull as he did every month.

"Percy told me about what you did with Ginny," Bill said, sounding rather calm, considering the subject he had just brought up.

Harry shuddered as he looked at Bill. Ginny had five brothers, and he had a sinking suspicion that he was going to have to go through this with each and every one of them. Percy had already talked with him, so that was one down. If he could make it through the talk with Bill, there'd only be three more brothers to go.

"N-nothing happened, Bill," Harry stuttered, trying to reassure him, "We were…we fell asleep, Bill…that's all. We were still fully clothed…even had our shoes on!

"Harry, the fact that you were still fully clothed is the only reason you're still able to walk and talk without a sever limp and speech impediment." The tone of Bill's voice made it almost seem like he was joking, but Harry could tell that the oldest Weasley brother was doing anything _but_ kidding around. "You know what you mean to Mum and to this family…and to Ginny."

Bill paused and looked at Harry, his blue eyes like steel shining in the moonlight. Harry nodded. He _did_ know what he meant to the Weasleys in general, and to Ginny specifically. He was a son, a brother, a lover.

"Don't let this happen again, Harry. Ginny would do anything for you…don't take advantage of that," Bill cast his gaze back up to the full moon, feeling a tingle run through his body, the hairs on his arm standing up, "I like you, Harry. I always have. Don't give me a reason to stop."

Bill looked back down at Harry and the raven-haired boy could only nod once more. That was enough, apparently, because Bill clapped him on this shoulder once again, this time in a friendly fashion, and turned to walk back up to the house, just as Ginny was coming out.

"Bill! Mum didn't want me," Ginny groused, hurrying back down to her brother and her boyfriend, "But _Fleur_ is waiting for _you_ and she doesn't look very happy. Not very patient is she?"

"Ah, go easy on Fleur, Ginny," Bill laughed as he started back up the garden towards the house and his half-Veela wife, "It's the full moon…Fleur's in for a _long_ night and she wants to get on with it."

"What? Ewwww!!" Ginny made a face as she guessed at what her brother must mean. His laughter echoing into the night told her that she may have just guessed correctly.

Once Bill was gone, Ginny wrapped her arms around Harry and snuggled into his chest. It was then that she noticed the look on his face.

"What's wrong, Harry?"

"You've got five older brothers," he sighed, hugging her tight.

"Yeah? So?" she looked up at her boyfriend, confused, "What about 'em?"

"Nothing…I just get the feeling it's going to be a long couple of days," he looked down at her and kissed her tenderly on the lips, "But you're worth it."

Flattered by his words, even if she wasn't quite sure about their meaning, Ginny stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him deeply. The kissed last for several moments until the shrill voice of Molly Weasley called out for them from the back door, ordering them back into the house since it was much too dark for respectable couples to be wandering about in the night.

Holding hands, the young couple made their way back into the Burrow for the first of many long nights of Molly watching them like a hawk.

* * *

"I'm sorry, Pumpkin…what did you just say?"

"You heard me, Daddy," Hermione Granger replied, "Ron is my boyfriend."

John Granger looked from his daughter's nervously smiling face to the sweaty, anxious face of the redhead next to her, and then down to their hands clasped comfortably together, the fingers interlaced in a very loving way. The young Weasley had every sign of a boyfriend meeting his girlfriend's parents for the first time. His face remained stony, but inside the dentist was smiling – this was a first for him…his little girl had never brought a boyfriend home before…and John Granger planned to enjoy it.

"Does your mother know?" Mr. Granger asked, his voice stern and emotionless.

"Uh…no, Daddy, not yet," Hermione admitted, looking a bit scared at the way her father was glaring unblinkingly at Ron.

"Go tell her."

"Daddy?"

"Go tell your mother that you're dating Ronald," John Granger elaborated for his daughter, "While your boyfriend and I go for a walk."

"Daddy…" Hermione gave her father a stern look, "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going for a walk with Ronald," her father replied, "And we're going to have a talk."

John walked over to the front door and opened it. He turned to face Ron who shot a quick look at Hermione that said _help_. She returned his look with one that said _I'm sorry_.

"Shall we go, Ronald?" John asked, remaining stone-faced.

Ron nodded and started to take one tentative step after another until he was outside, walking down the concrete walkway next to his girlfriend's father. The nervous redhead shoved his hands in his pockets as he kept pace with the stern-faced dentist as they walked in silence for more than a block. Turning a corner, they continued to walk in silence as the little white house and the slight comfort provided by Hermione's presence disappeared.

They continued to walk in silence until they reached a small park full of trees and flowers. Dr. Granger led Ron over to a stone bench in front of a concrete chess table. Ron's eyes brightened at the prospect of playing chess, until he realized that beating his girlfriend's father at chess might not make the best first impression.

"Sit," Dr. Granger said sternly, finally breaking the silence that Ron had endured for what seemed like hours (but had only been about ten minutes).

Ron did as he was told and Hermione's father followed suit, sitting across from him with the black and white chessboard spanning the space between them. Dr. Granger began setting up the chessboard, placing the white pieces in front of Ron.

"Do you play?" John Granger asked as he finished standing the chessmen in their proper rows. He already knew the answer, from something Hermione had once said about her First Year at Hogwarts. The young man before him was supposed to be some kind of chess master, while John, himself, knew _how_ to play…just not well. He was testing the boy's integrity. Would Ron lose on purpose to try to get his girlfriend's father to like him? John hoped not.

"A bit," Ron lied, taking a seat and wiping his sweaty hands on his pants.

Dr. Granger frowned slightly at the lie, "By all means then, Ronald, make your move."

Ron moved the pawn in front of his queen out two spaces. Dr. Granger then moved the pawn in front of his king's side bishop out two. He looked up to watch the boy who concentrated solely on the board and then moved the pawn in front of his king's side knight out one.

"So tell me, Ronald," John began, moving his king's knight up two and over one, "How long have you and my little girl been dating."

Ron moved his king's bishop diagonally up one, slipping it between his previously moved pawn and his king's knight, "Officially, for almost a week…since the day after my brother's funeral."

"Your brother's…?" John looked up at Ron, a look of surprise on his face as he moved his king's pawn forward one, "I…I didn't know. I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thanks," Ron mumbled, moving his king's knight up two and over one.

John moved his king's side knight's pawn forward one. An uncomfortable silence ensued as Ron moved his queen's knight up two and over one. Dr. Granger slid his king's bishop diagonally across the board until it was adjacent to Ron's queen's knight. Ron countered by moving his queen's side castle's pawn up one, adjacent to John's bishop.

"Did your brother…" John began.

"Fred," Ron said interrupting.

"Did Fred...die in the…" John wasn't sure what to call the conflict Hermione had told him about. He didn't quite comprehend all this business about Dark Lords and Death Eaters – how does one _eat_ death? He did understand that his only child – and he and his wife by extension – had been in grave danger since she was eleven, and now that danger was gone, thanks to his daughter and her two best friends. John took Ron's queen's knight with his bishop, "Check."

"In the war? Yeah," Ron took Dr. Granger's bishop with his queen side knight's pawn, "He was killed in the final battle."

Another uncomfortable silence developed between the two men when the only thing that could be heard was the sound of chessmen being moved about. John moved his queen's side castle's pawn forward two. Ron moved his king's pawn up one. John's king's side castle's pawn was then moved two. Ron's king's knight moved up two and over one. John examined the board, trying to suss out what Ron was up to, thinking carefully about his next move.

"You said you've been _officially_ dating Hermione for a week," John said, remembering Ron's earlier comment, "What about _un_officially?"

John moved his queen's pawn up one, adjacent to Ron's knight, ready to take the piece with his next move. Ron's knight moved over two and up one, taking John's king's side bishop's pawn, placing him within striking distance of the king's castle.

"I dunno," Ron muttered, concentrating more on the game than the conversation. A voice in his head said he should be more involved in talking instead of playing, but the strategist in him persisted on giving the chessboard his attention, "I guess since the end of Sixth Year. We kept dancing around our feelings until ten days ago."

John moved his king's castle forward two, placing it next to Ron's knight, "What happened ten days ago that made you stop _dancing_?"

Ron pulled his knight back, retreating to its previous position, not ready to lose his favorite piece, "We thought we were going to die in the final battle against Voldemort."

John looked up at the boy sitting across from him. He was barely eighteen…how could he have dealt with so much in his short life? Not just fighting in a war, but leading the fight alongside his two best friends. How many times in the last seven years had this boy faced death? For that matter, how many times had his little girl? John didn't know the answer, but he was determined to find out…determined to spend more time with his daughter who had seen far too much in her eighteen years.

Ron looked up, noticing Dr. Granger staring at him with a look of disbelief on his face. Ron blushed and looked back down at the board, "It's your go, Dr. Granger."

John responded by moving his queen's knight up two and over one…placing it directly in the path of Ron's king's bishop. "Damn!"

Ron chuckled at Dr. Granger's swearing, "Don't let Hermione hear that," he joked, moving his queen's bishop diagonally one, placing it in front of his queen, instead of taking Dr. Granger's knight.

"Does she get on you about swearing?" John asked looking up, a smile tugging at his lips, "Her mum's the same way…won't let me get a Hell or a damn in edgewise." John moved his queen's side bishop's pawn ahead two.

"With me, it's _bloody_," Ron laughed, relaxing a bit at the shared experience, "I can barely get the bloody word out of my mouth before 'Mione's on me about my language." The pawn John just moved had been the only deterrent keeping Ron's bishop from taking his knight, and sure enough Ron's next move took the knight, "Check."

"Damn!" John cursed again, moving his queen's bishop in front of the queen to block Ron's bishop, "Wait…did you just call her _'Mione_?"

Ron smiled, "Yeah…that's kind of my pet name for her. She hated it at first, but I think it's grown on her. I called her _Hermy_ once and she slugged me." Ron slipped his knight up two and over one, taking John's king's pawn, endangering his queen.

John chuckled at the boy's comment about his daughter hitting him, until he saw how desperate his situation was on the chessboard. He moved his queen over one to save it. "You know you lied to me earlier. You said you play _a bit_…but Hermione tells me you're some kind of chess genius."

Ron blushed, both at the compliment from his girlfriend, and at being caught in a lie by her father, "Sorry 'bout that. Truth is I'm wicked at wizard's chess…but never really played Muggle chess before." Ron moved his knight two over and one up, "Check."

"There's a difference between the two games?" John asked as he moved his queen forward taking Ron's second knight…the only two pieces he'd managed to capture. His queen was now poised to take Ron's bishop on his next move.

Ron quickly slid his bishop diagonally two spaces taking Dr. Granger's queen's castle. "Sure. The pieces move and talk and fight each other in wizard's chess. It's much more exciting. Err…not that _this_ is bad."

"Sounds interesting," John moved his knight over two and up one, onto the center of the board, "I'd like to see that sometime."

"Sure, I'll bring my set with me next time," Ron said as he moved his bishop and took the knight Dr. Granger had just moved.

"Why do I get the feeling I'm going to lose?" John said, smirking, as he moved his castle over two.

"I don't know what you mean," Ron said, smiling. He slid his queen diagonally across the board, taking another of John's pawns. "Check."

Grimacing, John slid his king over one, "You know…you cost me ten quid."

"_Quid_?" Ron looked up confused.

"Quid…a pound…Muggle money," John explained.

"Oh…how'd I…?"

"I thought for sure Hermione would wind up dating Harry," John said, grinning, "Mrs. Granger said that it would be you. I told her Harry was much better suited to Hermione…judging by the way she said you two always fought. But Lizzie swore it would be you…said it was her women's intuition. So we placed a wager on it…and when we get back, she's going to make me pay up."

"Sorry," Ron mumbled, looking down at the board, "If it makes you feel better…I always thought it would be Harry, too. Well…not really _thought_ it…more like…_feared_ it would be him." Ron unenthusiastically slid his queen forward to the end of the board and muttered, "Check."

John moved his castle back two, placing it between his king and Ron's queen, "Don't get too down about it, Ron," Dr. Granger said, reaching over to put a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder, "I'm sure Hermione made the right choice."

Ron smiled a little at Dr. Granger's words, and at the fact he'd called him _Ron_ instead of _Ronald_. He moved his queen over, taking Dr. Granger's second castle, "Check."

Dr. Granger slid his bishop in between his king and Ron's queen. Ron moved his king's pawn up one, causing Hermione's father to stare quizzically at the board. "I wish I could see what _you're_ seeing, Ron. I just don't have your eye for strategy." John took Ron's king's pawn with a pawn of his own.

Ron slid his queen's bishop three spaces along the board, "Check."

John moved his king over one, out of harm's way. He sighed, looking at his nine chessmen standing in a long line at the side of the board, fallen soldiers in his battle against Ron. He then looked at Ron's lone two knights sitting off the board and shook his head. This game was lost before it even began. Ron's queen moved across, taking Dr. Granger's final bishop.

"Check."

John had no recourse but to move his queen into the path of destruction. Ron moved his queen forward, knocking the black queen off the board and finishing the game.

"Checkmate!"

"Nicely done, Ron," Dr. Granger said with a smile, extending a sportsmanlike hand to offer his congratulations. Ron shook it eagerly, smiling back, his eyes glinting in the morning sun. Still keeping Ron's hand clasped in his own, Dr. Granger's smile faded slightly and his eyes bored into Ron's, "Now that we're done playing games, I have to ask you now, Ronald…what are your intentions towards my daughter?"

* * *

"What do you suppose he's doing to him?" Hermione asked as she gazed longingly out the window of her parents' Australian home, "They've been gone an awfully long time."

"Well, dear, you did say he was going for a walk with Ronald," Elizabeth Granger said, doing her best to reassure her daughter, "It's not like they can get into a lot of trouble merely going for a walk."

"But what if Daddy hurts him?" she sighed.

"Oh, Hermione," her mother chuckled, "Your father isn't going to hurt Ron. He's probably just trying to get to know Ron…after all, we never really saw much of your friends, except for a few minutes every summer when we would pick you up at King's Cross."

"I know, Mum. I wish you could have gotten to know Ron and Harry…they mean so much to me."

"Well, dear, there's still time," Mrs. Granger said, coming over and hugging her daughter, "We'll make plans once we're back in England…we'll get to know your friends…especially Ron."

"Provided Daddy doesn't kill him."

"Hermione! Do you really think your father is some kind of ogre who would hurt your boyfriend?" her mother laughed at the ridiculous notion, "You _do_ know why he's doing this…don't you?"

Hermione turned to face her mother, the look in her deep brown eyes revealing that _no_, she didn't know why her father was doing this. Hermione knew a lot of things, but why men do the things they do was not one of them.

"Oh, honey," Mrs. Granger sighed, "His little girl has _finally_ brought a boy home. As much as he dreads the thought of his little girl growing up and leaving him, he's been secretly longing for the day he would get to play the angry father who tries to scare his daughter's first boyfriend."

Hermione looked shocked. Her father was out there somewhere trying to frighten and intimidate Ron. This was a side of her father she'd never even heard of before.

"He's probably out there right now, lulling Ron into a fall sense of security…making friends with him…just so he can lower the boom and scare the pants off him," Elizabeth Granger sighed, pulling the drapes aside and looking out the window for any sign of her husband.

"That's bloody brilliant!" Mal laughed from across the room. He'd been listening in on the conversation while finishing is tea, "Good on Dr. Granger!"

"That's horrible!" Hermione gasped, shooting a dirty look at Marl, "I can't believe Daddy would do that! Poor Ron!"

"Your father really does have an odd sense of humor," Mrs. Granger said with a smile, "It's one of the things that simultaneously attracts me to him and infuriates me all at the same time."

Hermione gave her mother a strange look, as if she was seeing the woman for the first time. She really was a lot like her mother, and not just in appearance. There was a lot about Ron that attracted and infuriated her. She couldn't help wonder if Ron would do something like this when _their_ daughter brought home a boy.

The bushy-haired girl smiled as thoughts of a future where she and Ron had a brood full of bushy-haired, redheaded children filled her mind. That future would come to pass…she knew it. And that comforted her.

"I just hope your father's not sore about losing our wager."

"What wager?"

* * *

"You're…uh…serious?" Ron asked, his voice cracking as he pulled his hand back away after Mr. Granger let go of it. He nervously ran it through his mop of red hair.

"Do I look like I'm joking, Ronald?" Dr. Granger asked, crossing his arms and fixing Ron with a stern glare, "Do you find my daughter's affections to be a laughing matter?"

"No, sir, of course not!" Ron exclaimed, put his hands up in a defensive gesture, his eyes wide, "I just didn't think Muggles…I only thought wizard fathers asked about intentions anymore."

"Well, Ronald, my daughter is a witch who is dating a wizard," Dr. Granger said matter-of-factly, "And considering said wizard has just spent the past year _living unsupervised _in a tent with my daughter, I'm understandably curious as to that wizard's particular outlook for my daughter and her future."

Ron goggled at Dr. Granger for a few moments as it dawned on him just where Hermione got her penchant for speaking in as complex a manner as possible

"Before I say anything about my intentions," Ron said, trying to keep the nervousness from his voice, "I just want to say that _nothing_ happened between Hermione and me…err…Hermione and _I_…"

"You had it right the first time, Ronald," Dr. Granger said, biting back a smile, "It's _Hermione and me_."

"Oh…okay. Thanks. So…uh…" Ron tried to regain his train of thought, "In the tent…we were so busy searching for…looking for a way to end the war, and we were so miserable what with everything going on around us and the conditions we were living in…we were as often as not at each other's throats. It wasn't exactly…y'know…romantic."

"And I take it you and Harry were perfect gentlemen during the entirety of your stay within the tent?" the dentist asked, quirking an eyebrow at the redhead in front of him, "Treating her like a lady and being respectful of her feelings and her…privacy?"

"I'll admit that I can be a great bloody git when 'Mione and I get into a row," Ron said, blushing at the thought of how many times he'd actually hurt Hermione's feelings in the last seven-and-a-half years, "But you have to understand that I would never take advantage of Hermione or try to force her into anything."

"That's good to know," Dr. Granger nodded, his face still stern and stony.

"And you have to believe me when I tell you that I respect your daughter a great deal," Ron said, wishing something, anything he said could erase that emotionless mask on Hermione's father's face, "She's brilliant! She's bloody amazing is what she is! Hermione is capable of doing anything…I really believe that. I sometimes wonder why somebody so special and capable of so much would want to be with me…"

Ron looked away as he was hit with a wave of self-doubt and self-loathing as he worried about holding Hermione back and not giving her everything she deserves. The sound of Dr. Granger clearing is throat brought Ron back to reality and the matter at hand.

"I don't just love your daughter, Dr. Granger," Ron said as confidently as he could muster, "I cherish her. I worship her. Hermione is my Everything. I would die for her. I would kill for her. More importantly, I would live for her…for her and her alone."

Dr. Granger wasn't sure what to say to that. There was something in the young man's eyes that told him he was telling the truth. What's more, John Granger could tell that this young man sitting before him had had a chance to see those convictions proven.

"You still haven't answered my question, Ronald," Dr. Granger raised an eyebrow at him, "What are your intentions towards Hermione?"

* * *

Harry Potter was happy. Oh, sure, his alone time with his girlfriend, Ginny Weasley, was being severely intruded upon by the constant vigilance of one Weasley chaperone or another, but he was still happy. Ginny did that to him, and even though he now felt as though he was living under the threat of repercussions from her older brothers (two down, three to go), he happy just to be near her because he was in love with her.

After being called inside by Mrs. Weasley, Harry and Ginny sat in the sitting room of the Burrow, talking and playing wizard's chess and stealing chaste kisses every once in a while…all under the watchful eye of George Weasley. It was after 11:00 when the young couple had decided to go to bed, and George happily escorted them up the stairs, making sure that Harry gave Ginny no more than a simple good night kiss before continuing on up to the attic bedroom.

Before Harry entered the bedroom he shared with Ron (for the time being), George stopped and smacked Harry on the back, smiling that big George Weasley smile that had been missing since Fred's death.

"Well, ickle Harry, this is where I get off," George said, stretching dramatically and faking a yawn, "Good night, lover-boy!"

"'Night, George," Harry ignored the _lover-boy_ comment and made his way into Ron's bedroom, smirking at the way Crookshanks was happily curled up on Ron's pillow, snoozing away. Harry began changing into his pajamas. Once he was stripped down to his boxers and about to pull on the faded pajama bottoms, he felt a slight pinching in his groin. It quickly became uncomfortable and then from there proceeded to painfully burning.

Concerned about what could possibly be going on _down there_, Harry quickly pulled down his boxers in order to investigate. What he found…or didn't…scared the living daylights out of him. His green eyes widened to the size of saucers and a horrified scream escaped his lips.

"AAAAAAAHHHHHH!!"

Suddenly, the door to Ron's room opened and a grinning face could be seen looking on at the Boy-Who-Screamed.

"Is there a _problem_, Mr. Potter?" George asked, barely containing his laughter.

"Yes there's a bloody problem!" Harry yelled, turning to look at George as he stood there with that Cheshire grin on his face, "My BITS are gone!!"

"Oh…THAT," the earless Weasley chuckled, "Yes, well, I had to have _some_ sort of insurance that my sister's innocence remained in tact! Sweet dreams, Harry!"

**-- End Chapter 21 --**

**Author's End Notes:** I'm hoping the chess sequence in the middle ddn't drag too bad. I actually played out the game using my skill (as a sim for Dr. Granger) against my computer's chess program set at its highest level (as a sim for Ron). I know it probably ran a little long, but I thought it was a good sequence. But, what did you guys think?

Good news! I managed to finish Ch. 22 last night, so there will be new content tomorrow! I'm working on Ch. 23 as we speak, so hopefully knew content for Saturday, too!


	22. Pranksgiving

**Author's Notes:** Okay, this Note is going to be short. I came down with a stomach virus last night, and I'm not feeling very well at all...this means I may not finish the chapter for tomorrow (I haven't been able to work on it all day). Sorry if that puts anybody out. I just can't concentrate right now. If it makes anyone feel better, I've had to cancel all my plans for the weekend...

**Edinburgh Love**, **Ann Malfoy**, **Cantletharrygo**, **CutewithAcapital-Q**, **fatyellowrat**, **Avanell**, **Dizzy0305**, **katie1985**, **Elytha**, **Trude**, **mugglemama**, **emmy1124**, **Emma.Jane-HPfan**, **Moony3005**, **IsI Wisi**, **Lady Anja**, **embergrl9010**, **the written princess**, **MissFinnegan**, **Tiffany M**, **kareem33**, **randomguy1517**, **Shlesha**, **ronniemione**,** sarah-keyko**, **not for lack of trying**, **Emm04**, **Jacob's-One-Girl**, **Ravenhaired2**, and **Nosta82**, **Aly-Cat 101**, **EnglishGirlVerity **and** marauders rox** are the world's BEST reviewers.

**Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter...and I wish she owned my stomach virus, too.

* * *

**"Aftermath"**

**Chapter 22 -- Pranksgiving**

"Do you _my_ intentions really matter, sir?" Ron asked, smirking slightly as he spoke to Dr. Granger.

"You don't think they do?" the dentist replied, furrowing his brow at the young man in front of him.

"Well, I could sit here and list for you everything I _intend_ to do where your daughter is concerned, but we both know that Hermione is so stubborn…err…_strong-willed_…that what really matters is what _her_ intentions are."

"You have a point there, Ronald," John Granger said, fighting back a knowing grin.

"I _hope_ to marry your daughter, sir," Ron said, his eyes getting a distant, dreamy look in them, "I _hope_ to start a family with her. I _hope_ to have a long and happy life with Hermione by my side."

Dr. Granger nodded along as Ron spoke, liking what he was hearing from the boy in front of him, but not letting him know that he approved…so far.

"I will tell you one thing I _intend_ to do, Dr. Granger," Ron said, his tone serious once more as he looked directly into the dentist's brown eyes, "I _intend_ to do whatever it takes to make sure Hermione is happy for the rest of her life."

"What if her happiness lies somewhere _other_ than at your side, Ronald?" Dr. Granger asked, his tone grave.

Ron gulped, swallowing the lump in his throat as he thought of Hermione finding her happiness anywhere but with him. He sighed, exhaling a ragged breath and looking down at the chessboard in front of him. "That's something I'm terribly afraid _will_ happen someday, sir…and if the time comes that I can't make her happy anymore, then, yeah, I'd let her go. It'd kill me, but I'd do it."

John Granger stood without another word and began walking back towards the house were his wife and daughter were waiting for them. After about ten paces he looked back over his shoulder at the young man who sat at the chess table, looking as if he'd just made a terrible mistake. Smiling for the first time since their chess match, John Granger stopped and turned towards the boy.

"What are you waiting for, son, come on!" John said gesturing with a jerk of his head for Ron to come with him, "The girls are probably worried sick about us by now."

Ron's expression changed from sadness to shock to one of happiness as he jumped to his feet and hurried alongside the dentist. Had he passed the test? Hopefully. If Dr. Granger's sudden change in disposition was any clue, then Ron felt that he had.

"So Ron," Hermione's father began, once more calling him _Ron_ instead of _Ronald_, "What do you make of that Mal chap?"

"Honestly?" Ron asked, glancing at him.

"Always," Dr. Granger nodded, "Honesty _is_ the best policy."

Ron nodded, "I think he's a right poncey git."

John couldn't help but laugh at the young man's response. He slapped him on the back and then put a companionable arm across his shoulder, "You and me both, son."

"You and _I_ both, Dr. Granger," Ron said before he knew what he was saying. He covered his mouth with his hands, "Don't tell Hermione I said that…she'll never let me live it down."

* * *

"George!" Harry yelled, his voice sounding very distressed, "What the Hell?!" Harry stomped over towards the one-eared Weasley, his eyes pleading, "Change me back!!"

"Sorry, Harry," George laughed, "You'll have to wait for the potion to wear off."

"Potion?!" Harry exclaimed, "What potion?"

"It's a proprietary concoction," George said with a mad grin, "Part of the new Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes special line of products dedicated to disgruntled women who want to get even with the men in their lives. It's called _Bits Away_! I poured some in your pumpkin juice before dinner."

"What…how long does it last, George?" Harry was not amused, but he didn't want to yell at George for fear of _never _getting his bits back.

"Uhm…about a month?" George said, yawning and stretching.

"A month?!" Harry yelled in spite of himself. He didn't want to give George a reason to extend his newly begotten misery.

"Well…maybe more," George shrugged, "We started working on it before the war, but never quite worked out all the bugs. Oh…if your hair and teeth fall out…or if your feet start to smell bad and turn green…let me know. 'Night Harry!"

"George!!"

Harry yelled for the Weasley prankster to come back but to no avail; he was gone. Harry sat down on the camp bed, looking down into his lap. What was he going to do without his bits? How was he going to use the loo? How would Ginny react?

These thoughts coursed through Harry's brain as he lay back on the bed trying to convince himself that a month without bits wouldn't be so bad. No more embarrassing reactions when Ginny sits in his lap; no more uncomfortable chaffing from riding his broom for too long. As long as no one found out, he could live with it for a month…as long as no one found out.

Harry Potter realized it was going to be a very long month.

* * *

"Where _are_ they?!" Hermione exclaimed in annoyance as she gazed out the window, "It's been for_ever_!!"

"Hermione, calm down!" Mrs. Granger said stamping her foot down for emphasis, "It's only been about an hour."

"Maybe your dad just didn't take a liking to him," Mal suggested from his seat across the room, "And then your boyfriend wandered off in a huff and got himself lost. You said yourself he's a bit of a hot-head," and under his breath, so neither of the ladies could hear he added, "And he didn't seem all that ruddy bright to me."

Hermione turned to answer Mal, but before she could, the sound of two men shouting could be heard outside.

"OVER MY DEAD BODY!!" John Granger could be heard yelling.

"THAT COULD BLOODY WELL BE ARRANGED, MATE!!" the unmistakable (to Hermione, anyway) sound of an angry Ron could also be heard shouting.

The three occupants of the house quickly rushed to the front door and sprinted outside onto the porch. Hermione and Elizabeth Granger both had looks of shock and worry on their faces. Malcolm Majeebers, on the other hand, had a wide grin on his face, finding the situation to be quite amusing.

"I'M HER FATHER!!" John Granger roared, turning and getting in Ron's face, "AND _I_ DECIDE WHO SHE CAN AND CAN'T DATE!!"

"SHE'S EIGHTEEN!" Ron countered, grabbing hold of the older man's shirt collar and pulling him towards him in a threatening manner, glaring into his face with murder in his eyes, "SHE'S OLD ENOUGH TO MAKE HER OWN CHOICES AND SHE CHOOSES ME! SO SOD OFF, OLD MAN!!"

"GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF ME, YOU INSUFFERABLE LITTLE PRAT!" John Granger reared back and slammed his fist into Ron's stomach. Ron lurched backwards and fell to the ground.

"RON!!" Hermione screamed jumping off the porch and running towards her boyfriend, tears welling up in her eyes.

"JOHN!!" Elizabeth screamed as well, racing off towards her husband, "Stop this right now!"

"YES!!" Mal yelled jumping up and punching the air in glee, "Now kick him while he's down, mate! Really teach that little blighter a lesson!"

When the two women reached the fighting men, John stood with his fists balled up, head down with his face hidden from view. His whole body was shaking with apparent rage. Ron had rolled onto his side in the grass, away from the women, a hand on his stomach. His body was shaking as badly as Mr. Granger's.

"John, what do you think you're doing?!" Elizabeth Granger asked sharply, crossing her arms and glaring at her husband.

"Ron…oh, Ron are you okay?" Hermione knelt down next to her boyfriend, putting a hand on his shaking back.

"What do you think we're doing, Lizzie?" John asked in an emotionless monotone, still not looking up. Suddenly he stood up and faced his wife, his face covered in an ear-to-ear grin and the shaking he was doing turned out to be from the peals of laughter he was holding in, "We're playing a prank on you!"

"WHAT?!" Elizabeth looked at her husband in total shock. He roared with laughter.

"Ron?" Hermione looked up at her father as he laughed like he was mad and looked over at her boyfriend. He rolled over to face her and he, too, was laughing like he was insane, "You prat!!" she yelled, punching him hard in the arm and jumping to her feet, storming towards the house.

"'Mione, wait!" Ron laughed, jumping to his feet, "It was your dad's idea! I just played along so he'd _like_ me!" he whinged, running after her, while thinking to himself, _"Plus the look on your face was _really_ funny!"_

Elizabeth reached up and smacked her husband in the back of the head, "You are incorrigible, do you know that?" John Granger said nothing, but continued to laugh. He did however nod in agreement with his wife's statement.

She ran off after her daughter and caught her on the porch, hugging her.

"I told you that your father had an odd sense of humor," she sighed, resting her forehead against her daughter's, "He's a great big git."

"So is Ron," Hermione sniffed, wiping the tears from her eyes.

"And what are we that we love them so much?" her mother asked, smiling at her.

"Gluttons for punishment?" Hermione offered.

"With the patience of saints," Mrs. Granger added.

"'Mione…!" Ron ran up to the porch and tried to take her in his arms, but she shoved him away, "Come on…it was a joke!"

"It was stupid," Hermione snapped, punching him in the shoulder, "_You're_ stupid!"

"Oh, come on, Pumpkin," John Granger said as he, too, stepped up on the porch trying to alleviate the women's anger, "Don't blame Ron. It was all my idea!"

"It wasn't funny," Hermione grumbled, shooting dirty looks at her father and boyfriend.

"Okay, fine, it wasn't funny," Ron gave in, taking her hands in his own and turning her to face him fully, "But isn't it a good thing that your dad and I got along well enough to _pull_ a prank like this together?"

Hermione couldn't argue with his reasoning as much as she wanted to, and a smile soon tugged at her lips.

"So this was all just a big put-on?" Mal sounded a bit disappointed.

"Well spotted, you barmy bag o' wank!" Ron snapped, glaring at the Ministry liaison. Mr. Granger couldn't help but chuckle at Ron's colorful turn-of-phrase.

"Ron!"

"John!"

Both women yelled, exasperatedly, at their men at the same time, slapping them hard on the arm.

"Be _nice_!" Hermione growled, before leaning in and whispering, "Even if he is a humongous git! Remember, he's helping my parents."

"I think _you've_ laughed enough for one day, John Henry Granger," his wife hissed, "Now…we have boxes to pack if you and your little friend are done horsing around in the yard."

Elizabeth Granger started into the house, grabbing Ron by the elbow, "And you, young man…since you're so full of energy, _you_ get to be my special helper. I have some nice _heavy_ boxes full of books upstairs that _you_ can bring down."

"Bloody Hell…!" Ron moaned, following his girlfriend's mother dutifully into the house, "What is it with you Grangers and bloody books?!"

"Language, Ronald!!" Hermione and Mrs. Granger scolded him at the same time.

"I really should be getting back to the Ministry," Mal said once it was obvious there would ne no further conflict to watch, "You can Apparate back to the _Dingo_, right Hermione?"

"Yes, Mal," she nodded, not sorry to see him go, "Thanks for your help."

"Yes, thank you very much, Mal," John Granger added, shaking the man's hand, "You're making things very easy on us."

"No worries," Mal said before making his way towards the Ministry car parked at the curb, "Give my good-byes to the missus. I'll see you in a couple of days once I've got your flight info and plane tickets squared away."

"Bye!" John and Hermione said, waving. Mal waved back quickly before hopping in the black car and driving off in a hurry, the car's speed enhanced by its many enchantments.

Once Mal was gone and they were alone on the porch, Hermione took her father's hand and looked up at him, "So you really and truly like Ron, Daddy?" she asked, the hopefulness in her voice quite evident.

"Yes, Pumpkin," John said, nodding, "I really and truly like him. Not that you needed it, of course, but you have my approval and my blessing to pursue this relationship however far you like. Even if it means there's eventually a little redheaded scamp named John Weasley running around calling your mother _Nanna_ and begging her for candy."

"John Weasley, huh?" Hermione said with a slight smirk.

"What? It's a good name," he smiled, pulling his daughter in for a hug.

"It's a wonderful name, Daddy," she snuggled her head into her father's chest like she did as a small child, "I'm just so glad you like Ron…and that you like him better than Harry."

"Uh…Harry?" John Granger stiffened a little and looked down at his daughter, "What's your friend Harry got to do with anything?"

"Mum told me about the wager you made," she said, smirking again, her eyes flashing mischievously, "How you bet her that I'd wind up dating Harry. Eww, by the way," she made a face and her father chuckled, "_And_ she told me to tell you to _pay up_!"

Hermione brought her hand up, holding the palm open flat, looking at her father expectantly.

"_Pay up_?" he asked, looking at her quizzically.

"That's right, Daddy…pay up! Mum said since your wager was about me and _my_ boyfriend, it was only right that you give _me_ the ten pounds," she smiled at her father as he reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a ten pound note.

"Bloody Hell," he moaned as he slapped the money into daughter's hand. Her eyes went wide at the swear coming from her father's mouth. Her eyes blazed as she looked towards the door to the house and opened her mouth to yell.

"RONALD…!! Thank you _so_ much for teaching my father your favorite swear!!"

Hermione could just make out a muffled and distant voice calling out to her from inside the house, "Sorry, 'Mione…!"

John Granger chuckled again, enjoying the antics of his daughter and her boyfriend.

"I'm telling, Mum!" Hermione's eyes flashed mischievously as she wagged a finger in his face and hurried inside to play tattletale on her father.

"Bloody Hell…"

"DADDY!!"

Unable to help himself, he continued to chuckle to himself as he followed his daughter into the house to face the music.

* * *

According to the battered brass alarm clock on his bedside table, it was after Three O'clock in the morning when, with a _crack_, Ron Apparated into his bedroom at the Burrow. It was slightly after Noon over in Australia, and Ron had just finished lunch with the Grangers.

He was quite worn out from hauling ten large boxes of books from the upstairs study at the back of the house, through a narrow hallway to the front of the house, down an equally narrow flight of stairs (which changed direction shortly before reaching the ground floor, causing Ron to bump into the wall and stumble nine times out of ten), through the ground floor hallway towards the back of the house, out a door that refused to stay open, and into the garage to await the move back to England. Ron was exhausted, and even though he hated to leave Hermione, he was glad for a chance to get some sleep.

Ron noticed that Harry was tossing and turning and mumbling in his sleep, but he didn't it pay it any mind. It wasn't as though Voldemort would be entering his nightmares any more. Any dreams Harry had these days, Ron theorized, would just be normal, every day dreams that a boy his age should be having.

"Late for class…"

Or, Ron thought, they could be dreams about Harry's years at Hogwarts. Ron wasn't concerned. He needed sleep. He had to be at work with George at Nine, so the longer he sat looking at Harry trying to ponder what the Boy-Who-Dreams could be dreaming about, the less he would be sleeping.

Ron quickly changed out of the clothes he'd been wearing all day and pulled on a too-small pair of pajama pants. He grabbed his Chudley Cannons bedspread and yanked it quickly off the bed, knocking the snoozing form of Crookshanks to the floor with a hiss and an angry growl that said _you'll be paying for that in the morning_!

Ron jumped into bed and before his head was on the pillow for more than a minute, he was sound asleep and off to the Land of Nod like his best mate in the bed across the room.

_"I'm late for class!" Harry Potter yelled as he ran down the steps from the Gryffindor boys' dormitory with his school bag on his shoulder, darting out the portrait hole before it even had a chance to fully open, "And for Double Potions, too! Snape's going to give me detention and deduct about a million points from Gryffindor."_

_Harry ran as fast as he could down to the bowels of the castle where Snape and the Potions classroom resided. He was in such a hurry, Harry never noticed all the people looking at him funny, pointing and laughing as he ran. Eventually he made it to the dungeons and hurried into his Potions class._

_Sitting at the table they shared in Potions, Ron and Hermione were busily snogging each other's face off. Ron held a flimsy pair of Hermione's knickers in his hand, stroking them creepily while cooing to Hermione in a lovesick puppy voice._

_"I love your flimsy knickers, 'Mione my sweet…they're even nicer than the lacy ones I stole from you when Harry and I flew our brooms up into the girls' dorm the other day when you were out."_

_"I'm glad, Ronniekins my love, just don't show your mother. She'll declare me a scarlet woman and refuse to let us snog anymore."_

_"Look, 'Mione o' mine, our bestest of best friends Harry has arrived, and he's decided to come to class all starkers. Harry, you're starkers!!"  
_

_"That's not all, Ronnie-onnie-Won-Won! He's all smooth, like the Barbie dolls I wasn't allowed to play with as a child because I was such a swotty little bookworm. Why are you all smooth, Harry? Where are your boy bits?!"_

_"Mr. Potter," Professor Snape snapped with a snippy sneer, "Thank you for finally gracing us with your presence. Three months of detention and a million points from Gryffindor for being tardy."_

_"Look, Professor," a giant white ferret that sounded like Draco Malfoy yelled, standing up and pointing, "Potty's starkers!! And he's got no wedding tackle!!"_

_"Mr. Potter," Snape slimed his way towards Harry, leaving a greasy trail on the floor, "Perhaps you should learn to dress yourself before coming to class. Three more months of detention, and _two_ million points from Gryffindor for being unclothed in class."_

_Harry started to sit down next to Ron and Hermione who were now shagging on the floor behind their desk, Ron's pale, freckly bum almost glowing in the diffused lighting of the dungeon._

_"And Mr. Potter," Snape hissed heavily as he heaved toward Harry, "You should learn not to misplace your body parts. A lifetime's detention and _ten_ million points from Gryffindor for your lack of genitals."_

_Harry promptly sat down at his desk and tried to ignore his two best friends writhing on the floor in ecstasy._

_"Poor Harry," George Weasley said with a smile as he sat down next to Harry at the desk, "Just going to take Snape's punishment without protest? Oh wait, that's right…I forgot. You have no balls!!"_

_George jumped up onto the desk and started singing _Harry Has No Balls _and the whole class joined in, including Snape and Ron and Hermione who were now done shagging. Ron was wearing Hermione's knickers and Hermione was wearing Ron's Chudley Cannons boxers._

_"Harry has no balls! Harry has no balls! Let them hear us up in the Great Hall, Harry has no balls!!"_

_"George! Give me my bits back!! George!! GIVE ME MY BITS BACK!!"_

"GIVE ME MY BITS BACK!!" Harry yelled as he sat up in bed, wrenched from his nightmare by the disturbing imagery. He checked under the blankets and found, much to his dismay, the potion was still well in effect, "Well, it's only been a few hours," Harry murmured as he lay back and try to get more sleep.

"Alright there, Harry?" Ron croaked from his bed across the room. His voice was rough with sleep and it was obvious that Harry's yelling had awakened him.

"Yeah, I'm alright," Harry said, rolling over to face his friend. The room was dark and he didn't have his glasses on, so he couldn't see anything but a dark blob a few feet away, "What time is it anyway?"

"'Bout Five A.M.," Ron groaned as he looked at the round, clock-face softly glowing on his bedside table, "Have a nightmare, didja?"

"Something like that," Harry sighed rolling away from Ron to face the wall, "Well, 'night Ron."

"'Night Harry," Ron replied closing his eyes and trying to go back to sleep for another couple of hours. He shifted in his bed, sliding a hand under his pillow where his fingertips brushed the letters and the silky knickers hidden underneath. A sudden thought popped into Ron's head, "Hey, Harry…?"

"Hmm…?" Harry mumbled, sounding almost asleep.

"Did you take the knickers out from under my pillow earlier when Mum found 'em?" Ron's voice was gravelly as he spoke, and his eyelids were fighting against him, trying to close.

"Mm…" Harry gave a noncommittal grunt and drifted off to sleep.

Ron, too, fall back asleep, but his last thoughts were that he would find out one way or another in the morning whether it was Harry who had gotten him and Hermione in such hot water earlier that day.

_RRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGG!!_

Two-and-a-half hours later, the beat-up old alarm clock on his nightstand went off, signaling the start of another day of work for Ron. This wouldn't have been so bad except for three things:

#1) Four hours of sleep…more or less…was not enough to make Ron Weasley feel refreshed and ready for another day of working with his brother George.

#2) At some point during the early morning hours, Ron had rolled onto his stomach in his sleep and Crookshanks, having laid claim to Ron's bed the day before, settled in to sleep atop Ron's back. The large, squish-faced, bandy-legged ginger cat was quite comfortable until the alarm went off.

#3) Crookshanks was, apparently, quite distressed by the sudden cacophonous ringing of the old alarm clock, because he immediately jumped up and began hissing, digging four sets of razor-sharp claws firmly into Ron's bare back.

"AAARRGGGGHHHHHHH!!" Ron yelled at the top of his lungs, swinging his arms around behind him to try and knock the cat off of his back, "DAMMIT CROOKSHANKS!!"

One of Ron's flailing hands managed to smack Crookshanks in his pushed-in face, but instead of making the surly cat jump down off of him, it just served to enrage the ginger feline even more and make him dig his claws in even deeper.

"NNNNNNGGGGGHHHHH!! GEROFF!! GEROFF ME YOU BLOODY MONSTER!!"

Harry, awakened by the commotion, hurried over to help Ron out of his current predicament. Of course, he couldn't help laughing at his best mate as he helped him.

"Better hope Hermione doesn't find out you smacked Crookshanks in the face, Ron," Harry laughed, grabbing hold of the hissing cat and pulling him, painfully, off of the redhead's bare back, "It'll be just like Third Year when you accused him of eating Scabbers!"

"It's bloody different this time, mate, and you know it," Ron grumbled as he sat up. He twisted his head around to try and look down at the claw marks on his back, "I've got proof this time, and a witness…not that I'm going to tell her anyway."

Harry opened the bedroom door and tossed Crookshanks out into the hall before moving back across the room, taking a seat on his camp bed, "You've got a chance to get your biggest nemesis this side of Draco Malfoy in trouble with Hermione and you're not going to take it? Have you gone mental?"

"Harry, if I tell Hermione about this you know what she'll say?" Ron asked as he winced at the sight of the bloody scratches, "_Crookshanks was trying to be friendly by sleeping on your back and you scared him! You're a huge prat, Ronald Weasley!_"

Harry burst out laughing at Ron's imitation of Hermione, "You've got her down pat, mate. So, when's she coming home?"

Ron shrugged, "Dunno, mate. By the end of the week, I think. They were packing when I was there earlier…and the Ministry arranged for someone to buy their house…so I guess it's just a matter of getting their affairs in order."

"It'll be nice to see her again," Harry said, looking glumly down at his feet, "I miss her."

"Cheer up, Harry," Ron said, getting to his feet and grabbing a change of clothes, "'Mione'll be back soon, and then the Golden Trio will be back together…at least until she leaves for Hogwarts in the fall."

"Don't remind me," Harry mumbled, "Ginny will be leaving, too."

"It's for the best, mate, you'll see," Ron started walking towards the bedroom door, intent on grabbing a shower before all the hot water was gone.

"How can you be okay with Hermione being gone for a whole year?" Harry was confused. Ron was so temperamental (emphasis on _temper_ and _mental_) that he of all people should be upset at the idea of being without the woman he loved, "The thought of Ginny being gone is driving me mad."

"First of all, Harry," Ron sighed, not wanting to get into a lengthy discussion when there were hot showers to be taken and delicious breakfasts to be eaten before he had to Apparate off to work, "It's not a _whole_ year, is it? Christmas break, Easter break…that's nearly a month right there…and I doubt, without the two of _us_ at school to get into mischief, that 'Mione and Ginny will be staying at school over the breaks. Plus, they graduate the end of June, so that's what…nine months?"

Harry nodded, but still frowned. Nine months was a long time to be without his girlfriend.

"Plus there's the odd Hogsmeade weekend," Ron added, "And I doubt McGonagall would begrudge the Boy-Who-Lived and his faithful sidekick a little visit to their alma mater every once in a while."

"Still…that's a lot of time without her…err…them," Harry sighed, "How does it not bother you?"

Ron ran a hand through his hair and sighed in frustration, "Merlin, I thought this brooding rubbish was gonna end when we won the war. It _does_ bother me, Harry. I don't want to be apart from 'Mione, but it's not about me. It's about her making one of her dreams come true. I want to make Hermione happy, and if that means I have to be without her for a few months, then so be it! Besides, I'm not thinking about the time apart."

"Then what _are_ you thinking about?" Harry asked, hoping to learn the secret to not being miserable at the prospect of being without Ginny.

"I'm thinking about Hermione's face when I propose…about throwing my arms around her when she gets off the train at Christmas…about how proud she'll be and how proud I'll be _of her_ when she graduates…about how beautiful she's going to look in her wedding dress walking down the aisle towards me…about how amazing it's going to be as we hold our first child," Ron had a far away look in his eye and a lopsided grin on his face as he said all this, "I'm thinking about the future, Harry. Hermione and I will be together for the rest of our lives…I can survive nine months without her. It'll be tough…but it'll be worth it."

Harry looked at his best friend with a wry-looking smirk on his face, "Who are you and what have you done with Ronald Weasley?"

"Prat!" Ron laughed, grabbing a pillow off his bed and throwing it at Harry, smacking him in the face and setting his glasses askew. Harry threw the pillow back, but Ron easily deflected it, "Nice try, Harry, but you forgot about my amazing Keeper skills!"

Ron smiled cheekily and opened the door, whistling _Weasley is Our King_ to himself as he headed downstairs to grab a shower. Harry, meanwhile, continued to sit on his bed, thinking about the nine months he'd be apart from Ginny Weasley, but as a small smile played across his lips, he also began thinking about their future together, and slowly the desire to spend his time moping around the Burrow went away.

**-- End Chapter 22 --**

**Author's End Notes:** I'll try my best to get Ch. 23 done tonight and up tomorrow, but there are no guarantees right now. I had a hard enough time concentrating on getting this chapter edited and posted. Hopefully, I'll see you tomorrow.

* * *


	23. Australian for Goodbye

**Author's Notes:** First of all, I want to aologize for this chapter. I was sick with a stomach virus the entire time I was writing this, and it was very difficult to concentrate through the pain and discomfort. Because of that lack of concentration, I have a very serious suspicion that this chapter sucks. Of course, I think all of my work is rubbish (that's just me, for you) so I'm a very poor judge of my own work. If it does, indeed, suck, well...I already said I'm sorry...and I'll try and do better with the next chapter (things will get better when I'm no longer sick).

I made an allusion to a story written by **CutewithAcapital-Q** in Harry's dream sequence last chapter. Had I not been sick when I posted it, and wrote the Notes for it, I would have given her her proper due. **"Journey to the Center of a Witch's Universe"** is a very cute little story with an over abundance of knickery goodness. I would suggest checking it out. (There, Cute, I gave you your props...now call off the flying monkeys!!)

**Edinburgh Love**, **Ann Malfoy**, **Cantletharrygo**, **CutewithAcapital-Q**, **fatyellowrat**, **Avanell**, **Dizzy0305**, **katie1985**, **Elytha**, **Trude**, **mugglemama**, **emmy1124**, **-HPfan**, **Moony3005**, **IsI Wisi**, **Lady Anja**, **embergrl9010**, **the written princess**, **MissFinnegan**, **Tiffany M**, **kareem33**, **randomguy1517**, **Shlesha**, **ronniemione**,** sarah-keyko**, **not for lack of trying**, **Emm04**, **Jacob's-One-Girl**, **Ravenhaired2**, and **Nosta82**, **Aly-Cat 101**, **EnglishGirlVerity**,** marauders rox**, and **Lane Joey** are THE WORLD'S GREATEST reviewers...and not _just_ because they've reviewed my story. They just are!!

"Aftermath" is rated M for language and naughty stuff

**Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling owns the characters and whatnot...except for Malcolm Majeebers, and let's face it...who'd want to own THAT bloke?

* * *

**"Aftermath"**

**Chapter 23 -- Australian for Goodbye**

When Ron made his way down to the kitchen for breakfast, his hair still wet from the shower, he found George and Harry already at the table with his mother busily cooking at the stove.

"Breakfast smells good, Mum," Ron said a bit less cranky after his shower than he had been upon waking up. The Crookshanks scratches had stopped bleeding but were still quite tender, "Pancakes?"

"That's right, Ronald," Mrs. Weasley said cheerfully, "And sausages."

"No sausage for ickle Harry, Mum," George chirped, smiling deviously at the raven-haired boy across the table, "Right, Harry?"

"Shut it, George," Harry grumbled.

"Harry, dear, you don't want any sausages?" Mrs. Weasley asked, turning to look at her honorary son with a frown, "I thought you liked sausage."

"Oh, Harry _loves_ his sausage, Mum," George guffawed, drawing glares from the bespectacled boy he was mocking, "He's just not feeling it today…are you, Harry?"

Ron looked at the exchange between his brother and his best mate. George was nearly rolling on the ground laughing at his own jokes and Harry looked so angry that steam could almost be seen pouring out of his ears. Ron wondered if _this_ is what it looked like every time _he_ had been the subject of the twins' ridicule. He couldn't help smiling a bit. For once it wasn't him…although he wasn't sure what _Harry _had done to warrant this treatment.

Ron sat down next to his brother and looked across the table, "Alright there, Harry?"

"Fine," Harry growled.

"Don't mind ickle Harrykins, Ronnie," George teased, "He's just missing his _old friend_."

"Well, we all miss Hermione," Mrs. Weasley said as she began plating up the food. Ron nodded in agreement with his mum, having no clue as to the actual meaning of George's teasing. As she past him, his mum smacked George on the shoulder and scolded him, "Now you stop teasing Harry and eat your breakfast before it gets cold."

The boys tucked in to their food with Ron wolfing down his breakfast so fast it barely appeared that he was chewing. Harry seemed to be picking at his food as if he didn't have much appetite. And George, well, he appeared to be too busy smirking across the table at Harry to pay much attention to the breakfast at hand.

When Ginny came down to breakfast, she took her place next to Harry and kissed him on the cheek, her mother, frowning slightly as she placed a plate of food in front of her daughter, she couldn't help scolding her youngest child.

"That's enough of that, Ginny. You're here to eat, not snog."

"Fine," Ginny snorted, "I'll snog him _after_ breakfast!"

"No sausage for Ginny either, Mum!" George called, grinning wickedly, "Right, Harry?"

Harry slammed down his fork and glared at George. George continued to smirk evilly at him. Ron continued to wolf down his breakfast…now on his second helping…still no closer to knowing what was going on. Ginny shot her brother an angry look, not knowing what he was on about, but not liking the fact that he was picking on _her_ boyfriend.

"George, dear, instead of making fun of Harry," Molly said softly, trying to keep everyone from yelling, "Shouldn't you and Ron be getting off to work?"

"Of course, Mother-dear," George said, standing and giving his mother a hug with a flourish, "Once our dear Ronnie has finished eating what's left in the kitchen, we'll be off to our humble little shop."

"Okay…I'm done…" Ron said, shoving one last mouthful of pancakes into his gob and then jumping up from the table, "Let's go George," Ron grabbed a couple more sausages off the serving platter and headed out the backdoor into the garden.

George planted a kiss on his mother's cheek, "Goodbye, Mummy-dearest! See you for dinner."

He then rounded the table and placed an identical kiss on Ginny's cheek, "Goodbye to you, O Sister dear! Be good and don't try to seduce Harry today!"

"George!" Mrs. Weasley snapped, before shuffling off into the other room, "Leave your sister alone!"

"Get off me, George!" Ginny snapped, swatting at her brother with an annoyed glare.

George moved on to Harry, pinching his cheeks and planting a kiss atop his scruffy head, "And you, Harry my lad, you be sure to keep your _hands_ to yourself…since we don't have to worry about anything else from you!"

"Sod off, George!" Harry spat, banging an angry fist on the table.

George laughed, smiling happily to himself. He made his way out into the garden, and soon a _crack_ and a _pop _told the tale that Ron and George had Disapparated to the shop in Diagon Alley.

"You want to tell me what George was on about, Harry?" Ginny asked between bites of pancake, looking expectantly towards her boyfriend.

"Not really," Harry grumbled, stuffing his face full of pancakes, "Just George being a prat."

"What else is new?" Ginny sighed, rolling her eyes, "It's just a bit surprising that you were the one he was taking the mickey out of, instead of Ron. You do something to set him off?"

"Can't imagine what," Harry lied, going to take a drink of pumpkin juice, but thinking better of it. He was about to get up to grab himself a drink of water when Mrs. Weasley came bustling back into the kitchen.

"Wonderful news, wonderful news!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed as she started cleaning up George and Ron's breakfast plates.

"What is it, Mum?" Ginny asked, looking up with interest.

"I just spoke to your father in the fireplace, Ginny," Mrs. Weasley said, terribly excited, "The Minister is coming to dinner on Sunday!"

"Kingsley Shacklebolt's coming here?" Harry asked, curious, "What for?"

"Well, I don't know, Harry-dear," Mrs. Weasley said brightly as she plopped the dirty dishes into the sink, "Arthur hasn't said what the visit's to be about, but I suspect that the Minister may be coming to give Arthur a promotion!"

"That would be great, Mum," Ginny smiled, "Dad's worked so hard over the years…he deserves it."

Mrs. Weasley smiled broadly and bustled around the kitchen, "He certainly does, Ginny! Now, we've got less than one week to get this house in the kind of shape it needs to be in to host the Minister himself for dinner! And I expect the two of you to help out!"

"Let me guess," Ginny sighed, "We'll be de-gnoming the garden every day for the next week…"

Mrs. Weasley smiled at her daughter and went about straightening up the kitchen, humming a happy tune as she went.

"Now I wish _I_ had asked George for a job," the youngest Weasley moaned at the prospect of cleaning the Burrow for the _special_ dinner to come.

The week leading up to the Minister's dinner with the Weasleys was an extremely busy one, especially for Ron. He was doing his best to divide his time between working at the shop and Apparating to Australia to help with the Granger's move. The only free time he had at all was the few hours of sleep he managed to catch each night at the Burrow.

The decision had been made that the move from the Burrow to the flat above Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes wouldn't take place until _after_ Hermione came home for two reasons. #1) Ron explained to George (who was still enjoying the harassment of Harry, much to Ron's delight) that he was too exhausted from splitting his time between the shop and the Grangers to make the move. #2) Ron was of the firm belief that after helping her parents with _their_ move, Hermione owed it to him to help _him_ move, and who better to organize things than the smartest witch of her age?

Ron felt a bit guilty that he wasn't helping around the Burrow to get it spotless for when the Minister came to visit, but it wasn't the _first_ time Kingsley Shacklebolt had been to Burrow, Minister or not, and Ron didn't think such a fuss should be made just because he was the highest ranking official in the wizarding government right now.

"What's in a name?" Ron mumbled as he thought about the Shacklebolt situation, remembering something Hermione had once quoted to him from a play by that Shakesprat fellow, "A roast by any other name would smell like meat," he said with a yawn. It was late, and once again he'd just come from the Grangers' in Australia. The bright side was they'd be coming back to England tomorrow.

"That Shakesprat bloke likes to state the obvious," Ron said to himself as he knocked Crookshanks off his bed once again…something that had become a nightly ritual, "A roast _is_ meat. Don't see the appeal, myself, but 'Mione likes him."

Before he faded off into dreamland, Ron looked across the room at his best friend. He hadn't spent much time with Harry in the last week, and he felt a little bad about that. Of course, from what Ron saw of him at breakfast and such, Harry was acting strange. He was constantly being made the butt of George's jokes, and, of course, Ron knew firsthand that that could make a bloke a bit off.

Not having any time to spend with Harry also meant he never really got to ask him if it _was_ in fact him who had found Hermione's knickers and left them out for his mum to find. It had been nearly a week since the Knickers Incident, and Ron almost wondered if it was worth bringing up at this point. Of course, the things his mother had said about Hermione still stung and was unfair to the bushy-haired girl who hadn't even been there to defend herself, so maybe it was worth bringing up after all. He just needed to find the time…and it had to be _before_ the supper on Sunday, since Ron had the perfect revenge in mind for the Boy-Who-Snooped-and-Left-the-Knickers out, if that was indeed Harry.

Hermione paced back and forth within the emptiness that had once been the living room of Wendell and Monica Wilkins, British Dental Surgeons. The living room, like the rest of the house, had been cleaned out and everything (furniture, knickknacks, books, photographs, etc.) had been magically shrunk (_Reducio!_) and carefully packed away into one, single suitcase.

Hermione continued to pace the length and width of the empty room, the sound of her shoes on the bare wooden floor echoing throughout the empty room. Drs. John and Elizabeth Granger, B.D.S – the middle-aged couple formerly known as Wendell and Monica Wilkins – watched their daughter with a mixture of annoyance and amusement.

Seeing how distressed Hermione was getting over the situation was sort of funny, considering all their daughter had been through over the last seven years at Hogwarts. However, the back and forth motion of her pacing and the _click-clack_ noise of her shoes on the hardwood was nerve-wracking.

"Our plane leaves in two hours!" Hermione snapped, aggravation evident in her voice, "You'd think that idiot would be on time! He knows what time we need to be at the airport."

"Name calling isn't going to solve anything, Hermione," Mrs. Granger said, sounding more than a little annoyed herself.

"And neither is getting angry," Mr. Granger added, speaking to _both_ his wife and daughter, "He'll be here. Hasn't he helped us out all week? He'll be here."

"He's still an idiot!" Hermione hissed.

As Hermione spoke, there was loud _crack_ as Ron Apparated into the middle of the living room about a-foot-and-a-half away from where Hermione stood.

"Who's still an idiot?" Ron asked with a lopsided smile, "Anybody I know? Not some redheaded bloke with a winning smile and gorgeous eyes, I hope."

"Not you, you prat!" Hermione laughed, smacking her boyfriend on the arm and throwing herself into his arms for a hug. Ron leaned down and kissed her chastely on the lips (no tongue in front of the parents!).

"Actually, Ron, we were talking about your good friend, Mal," John said with a cheeky grin knowing Ron's feelings towards the Ministry liaison, "He's supposed to be driving us to the airport…but he appears to be running late."

"He'll be here," Ron smirked, "He wouldn't miss a chance to say goodbye to 'Mione."

"What does that mean?" Mrs. Granger asked, looking at her daughter.

"Not _this_ again, Ron!" Hermione grumbled.

"Mal fancies her," Ron explained.

"He does _not_!" the young witch yelled, stamping her foot on the floor for emphasis, making her look to be about to throw a temper tantrum.

"Don't be so quick to dismiss it, Pumpkin," Mr. Granger cut in, reaching over and placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, "Men can tell these things…when their territory is threatened. Right, Ron?"

Ron's eyes widened at Dr. Granger's words, and he knew trouble was coming, "Err…I…don't really know what you're talking about…"

"TERRITORY?!" Hermione and Mrs. Granger yelled, both of them turning on Dr. Granger at the same time.

"Is that what you think I am, John Henry Granger…your territory?!" Mrs. Granger yelled, stomping over and poking her husband hard in the chest, "Because I assure you I am NOT!"

"Lizzie, love, I'm only joking!" John Granger said quickly, rubbing the spot on his chest she'd poked hard enough to bruise.

"You'd better be, Mister!" she replied, backing off.

"Daddy, I can't believe you'd say something so sexist! Even as a joke," Hermione looked disappointed in her father, before turning her gaze to Ron, "And _you_, Ronald Weasley, better never even _joke_ about _me_ being _territory_!"

"Calm down, 'Mione," Ron urged, putting his hands up defensively, "I never said a thing. It was all your dad!"

"Thanks for the support, Ron," Mr. Granger said with a smirk.

"Anytime, Dr. Granger," Ron replied, returning the smirk.

"Ohhh!! You two _men_ are just so…" Hermione was searching her brain for the perfect word to describe the two most important men in her life.

"Funny?" her father suggested.

"Handsome?" her boyfriend added.

"Intelligent?" Mr. Granger supplied.

"Studly?" Ron said, striking his _studliest_ pose.

"Incorrigible!!" Hermione finished.

"That, too," Dr. Granger said, laughing.

"At least I'm not insufferable, this time," Ron said with a grin, putting his arms around Hermione and kissing the top of her head. She melted into his arms.

"No," Hermione sighed, snuggling into his chest, "I'm more than happy to suffer you, you great prat."

The four of them were laughing at Hermione's comment when there was a knock at the door. Mal had arrived. Finally.

"G'day, Grangers," Mal said cheerfully until he noticed the redhead with his arm around Hermione, "And…Ron."

"Good morning, Mal," John said, reaching out to shake the Aussie's hand, "What kept you?"

"I had to handle some last minute paperwork," Mal explained, "Shall we be off?"

The three men took the luggage and placed it in the boot (trunk) of the Ministry car. Once they'd all piled in (John in the front passenger seat, Ron, Hermione, and Elizabeth in the back), Mal started the car and they took off for Sydney Airport.

"You'll make your flight in plenty of time," Mal said as they raced down the streets in the magically enhanced car, "The Ministry has taken care of everything. You've got your tickets and passports, yes?"

"Right here," John Granger replied, tapping his shirt pocket.

"Now remember, your Muggle passports still have you as Monica and Wendell Wilkins," Mal reminded them, "So until you step out of Heathrow Airport, you are the Wilkinses. Here…"

Mal handed John Granger a rolled up piece of parchment.

"What's this?" John asked, looking back and forth between the parchment and Mal.

"When you arrive in London, you'll be met by a member of the British Ministry for Magic," Mal explained, "That parchment's for them…it details all the arrangements worked out between the two Ministries to get you back into your old life as smoothly as possible."

"Thank you so much for all your help, Mal," Elizabeth said, leaning forward in the back seat and patting him on the shoulder, "We really appreciate all the trouble you've gone to."

"No worries, Mrs. G," Mal said, smiling into the rearview mirror, "Anything for Hermione and her parents…right Ron?" Mal winked into the mirror, and Ron started to growl under his breath, clenching his fists.

Noting her boyfriend's response, and getting tired of Mal baiting him, Hermione wrapped her arms tightly around Ron's arm and leaned up to whisper in his ear.

"Be nice. It's only for a little while longer."

Ron grunted, giving in, and Hermione snuggled up close to him, putting her head on his shoulder.

By the time they reached Sydney Airport, got the Grangers checked in, their luggage squared away, and made their way through security down to the departure gate, there was only about forty-five minutes left until the plane was scheduled to take-off.

"How long are you going to be flying in one of those _things_?" Ron asked, looking in awe out the large windows near the departure gate at the fleet of airplanes jockeying for position as they taxied on the runway.

"Twenty-two hours," she said, sighing a bit. She really wasn't looking forward to spending that much time up in the air.

"Twenty-two…?! Merlin's boxers, 'Mione," Ron exclaimed, "That's almost a whole bloody day!"

"I'm aware of that, Ronald," Hermione replied, rolling her eyes, "Now, watch your language and don't raise your voice…there are Muggles around."

"Sorry," he replied sheepishly, lowering his voice, "But do you really want to sit in one of those things for an entire day? Why don't we all just Apparate home?"

"Well, you _know_ my parents can't Apparate since they're Muggles," she said, "And I think Side-Along Apparating all the way back to England with them would be too dangerous. Plus…this is how Muggles travel."

Ron shook his head, not sure he accepted _that_ as a good enough answer to his question, but he relented before an argument occurred, "So…what time do I pick you up at Hedgerow Airport in London?"

"_Heath_row," Hermione said, correcting him. She looked down at the plane ticket her father had handed her at the check-in desk, "Arrival time is 10:00 P.M. tonight, London time."

"Wait…what? How can that be?" Ron asked, confused, "You said it was going to take twenty-two hours."

"Yes, but you're forgetting the nine hour time difference, Ron, it's only about 11:30 last night back home."

Ron sighed and shook his head, "I'll never understand this Muggle travel. It's barmy is what it is."

"How will you find your way to Heathrow, Ron?" Hermione asked concerned, not wanting to imagine the kind of trouble he could get into wandering around Muggle London looking for the airport.

"I'll get Harry to help," he said, matter-of-factly, "I'm sure he knows all the Muggle places like airports and the like. Plus, it'll give me a chance to talk to him about some things. We haven't seen much of each other this past week."

"I'm so sorry, Ron," Hermione said, her face a mask of guilt, "It's all my fault. You've spent all your free time helping my parents. I promise, as soon as I get back home, I'll make it up to both of you!"

"I'm not sure I like the sound of that," Ron said, looking a bit put off by her suggestion, since he _knew_ how he wanted her to make things up to _him_, and he certainly didn't want her doing that sort of thing for _Harry_!

"Not that, you prat!" she laughed, smacking his arm, "I meant we'll all do something fun together…like a night out to cut loose and enjoy ourselves."

"Hermione Granger cutting loose," he smiled, "I'd like to see that!"

A few minutes later a voice called over the airport's P.A. system that the Granger's flight was ready for boarding, and they prepared to say their goodbyes to Ron and Mal, who had insisted on staying until they left as part of his duties as liaison.

"Well, Ron," John Granger said, shaking the redhead's hand, "I guess this isn't so much _goodbye_ as it is _see you tomorrow_. Thanks for all your help this week…Hermione picked herself a good man."

"Thank you, sir, that really means a lot," Ron blushed a bit at the compliment as he shook Mr. Granger's hand. Mrs. Granger then came up and enveloped him in a hug.

"Thank you ever so much, Ronald," she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek, "I certainly hope you'll come to dinner once we've settled in."

"I'd love to," Ron said with a shy smile…he wasn't used to being kissed by his girlfriend's mother, even if it was just on the cheek.

The Grangers then turned their attention to Mal.

"I can't thank you enough for what you did for us this week, Mal," Mr. Granger said reaching out to shake Mal's hand, "I can't imagine how monumental a task this all would've been without the aid of the Ministry."

"It was pleasure to be of assistance," he replied, shaking Mr. Granger's outstretched hand.

Mrs. Granger now came over and gave him a quick hug, "Thank you, Mal, for everything."

"No worries, Mrs. G. I was glad to help."

Mal turned to face Hermione, a Cheshire grin on his face as he opened his arms wide, "And what about you, ducks? Have you got a goodbye hug for your Mal?"

Hermione walked slowly over to Mal and grabbed one of his hands, shaking it vigorously, "Thanks a lot, Mal. I don't think I could've gotten my parents back without you."

Mal blanched slightly at the handshake, having wanted a hug. But he smiled inwardly as he pulled the hand he was shaking up to his lips and kissed it, much the way Viktor Krum had done the night the three of them went out to dinner.

"It was my pleasure to help you, Hermione," Mal said, winking at her as she quickly withdrew her hand, "And the next time you find yourself here in Australia, I'd love to take you to dinner…hopefully without your Quidditch playing ex-boyfriend this time."

Mal shot a look over at Ron. He was doing his best to get under the redhead's skin, but for some reason he wasn't taking the bait. He thought for sure Ron would react badly to things he was saying, let alone doing, and cause a scene…and get in hot water with Hermione and her parents.

Hermione glared at the Ministry liaison and moved to stand over next to her parents. She couldn't wait to put Australia and Malcolm Majeebers behind her for good.

"Well, we'd better be going," John Granger said, frowning slightly at Mal's antics, "We don't want to miss our flight."

"See you back in England," Ron said, waving at Hermione's parents as they made their way down a tunnel, disappearing from view, "And _you_," Ron said, turning to Hermione, "Be careful. You know I love you."

"I know," Hermione smiled, wrapping her arms around Ron's neck as they kissed, "I love you, too. _You_ be careful, too. You're much more prone to getting into trouble than I am."

Ron smiled lopsidedly at her, "'Mione, what possible _trouble_ could I get into?"

Hermione shot a quick look over to where Mal was standing with his back to them, apparently not choosing to watch their goodbye kiss, "Oh…I don't know."

Ron threw his head back and barked out a laugh. She really did know him too well. He kissed her once more and she pulled away from him, waving as she backed towards the tunnel leading to the plane. She was the last one through the doors and she kept her eyes locked on Ron's until those doors closed.

Standing at the large windows, Ron watched as, eventually, the huge hulking airplane moved away from the building and started rolling slowly across the large expanse of concrete towards the runway. He didn't want to leave until he knew Hermione and her parents were safely in the air. He caught the reflection of someone standing behind him in the great window, and turned to face Mal Majeebers.

"What're you still doing here, _Mal_?" Ron said snappishly, adding a little sneer at the end when he said the man's name.

"Same as you, I suppose," he replied, "Making sure our Hermione gets off alright."

"Except that she's not _our_ Hermione, is she?" Ron said, walking over to the Ministry liaison.

"I suppose this is the part where you tell me she's _your_ Hermione?" Mal smirked.

"Oh no, she's _her_ Hermione," Ron laughed, "I just happen to be the lucky guy she's in love with."

Mal looked like he wanted to say something particularly biting to Ron, but he was cut off as Ron extended a hand to him. Mal regarded the hand suspiciously, remembering the handshake from when they met.

"No hard feelings, mate?" Ron said, waiting for Mal to shake his hand. When it was obvious Mal was nervous about the proffered handshake, Ron laughed reassuringly, "I'm not going to try and crush your hand, mate! Honestly, Hermione _told_ me to be nice!"

"And do you always do what she tells you?" Mal asked mockingly as he reached out and accepted the handshake.

"Mostly," Ron replied, "But sometimes, what she doesn't know can't hurt her."

Before Mal could respond, or pull out of the handshake, Ron had struck. Shaking Mal's hand with his right hand, Ron swung his left fist hard into Mal's jaw with a sickening _crack_, dropping the Ministry liaison to the floor, hard. Mal looked up, thunderstruck, holding his jaw. He watched as Ron pulled out his wand and, expecting the worst, Mal closed his eyes, flinching against the hex he felt sure was coming.

_Crack!_

**-- End Chapter 23 --**

* * *

**Author's End Notes: **Okay, so how badly did that suck? Anyone?

I haven't started on Ch. 24 yet (thank you, stomach virus!), but I will in a bit. With luck it'll be done in time for tomorrow. If not, well...I don't even


	24. Homecoming

**Author's Notes: **Okay, well, the general concenus from my reviewers (including one who called me a TWIT for saying it) was that last chapter DID NOT suck. So, while I could get all BIGHEADED and crow about how even sick I can write a good chapter, I'll be a bit more humble and say I'm lucky that even while sick I was still able to squeak by with my meager talent and produce a chapter that was entertaining for my faithful readers and reviewers. That's why I'm still writng this thing, after all. To entertain people.

I was feeling a good bit better (although not nearly 100 percent) when I wrote THIS chapter, so I'm hoping that it, too, is enjoyable. If not, I'm sure I'll hear about it...after all, one of my reviewers has NO qualms about telling me EXACTLY what she thinks about my work, even if she has to call me names to get her point across!

**Edinburgh Love**, **Ann Malfoy**, **Cantletharrygo**, **CutewithAcapital-Q**, **fatyellowrat**, **Avanell**, **Dizzy0305**, **katie1985**, **Elytha**, **Trude**, **mugglemama**, **emmy1124**, **Emma.Jane-HPfan**, **Moony3005**, **IsI Wisi**, **Lady Anja**, **embergrl9010**, **the written princess**, **MissFinnegan**, **Tiffany M**, **kareem33**, **randomguy1517**, **Shlesha**, **ronniemione**,** sarah-keyko**, **not for lack of trying**, **Emm04**, **Jacob's-One-Girl**, **Ravenhaired2**, and **Nosta82**, **Aly-Cat 101**, **EnglishGirlVerity**,** marauders rox**, **Lane Joey** and **allenterrill**...also known as The Amazing People Who Have Reviewed My Story...are simply that...AmAZING!! Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing me!! As of this writing, you guys have left a combined total of 204 reviews. I don't know what the usual rate of review is, but I've only been postin this story for the last 20 days, so that's 10.2 reviews per day. I'm more than happy with that. I'm thrilled. Especially since many of you review me every day! If this were the Academy Awards or something, I'd probably be blubbering into the microphone saying something along the lines of "You like me! You really like me!"

"Aftermath" is rated M for language and naughty stuff.

**Disclaimer: **J.K. Rowling created the Harry Potter universe...and we're all happier for it.

* * *

**"Aftermath"**

**Chapter 24 – Homecoming**

_Crack!_

It was a few minutes after midnight when Ron Apparated back to his bedroom at the Burrow. He was tingling with anticipation; Hermione was coming home tomorrow night! Oh, sure, he'd seen her all week, but traveling to Australia for a few hours each day to help her parents pack and prepare to move back home to England was not nearly the same as spend a nice, quality evening with her…and no one else.

Looking across the room, he could see that Harry was not yet in bed. It might be a good time to talk to him about going to the airport tomorrow…_and_ to discuss the Knickers Incident. His first thought was to check the kitchen since, well, if it were him, he'd be checking on any leftovers from dinner that might be readily available. After all, it wasn't called a _midnight snack_ for nothing!

Leaving his room and slowly descending the stairs so as to not wake the rest of the house with his thundering footsteps, Ron stopped his trek down to the ground floor when he heard what he thought was a cry of distress coming from the bathroom. He was torn by the choice to investigate the noise and to ignore it entirely. Ron felt that if it were _he_ in the bathroom, he'd want to be left alone…however, he also hoped that if he somehow injured himself and lost consciousness, someone would check on him and get him help if needed.

Giving in to his desire to make sure his family was safe at all costs (even possible embarrassment), Ron sighed and made his way towards the closed bathroom door. He could just make out a voice coming from the other side of the door, and too his surprise, it sounded like Harry.

"……dammit George……not again……Merlin, it's everywhere……this isn't funny……"

Ron couldn't hear the entirety of what Harry was saying, just the bits and pieces that were said louder than the others. Harry did, however, sound distressed, so Ron knocked on the bathroom door.

"Harry…?" Ron said in a loud stage whisper, not wanting his voice to carry down the hall and wake his parents, "You alright in there, mate?"

"Fine, Ron!" Harry snapped, "Can't a bloke go to the loo in peace?"

"Sorry, Harry," Ron replied, glumly, "I heard you yell…thought you might be hurt."

"I'm _fine_, Ron!" Harry practically yelled, "Now _please_…go _away_!!"

Shooting a disgruntled glance and a two-fingered salute at the closed door, Ron made his way back up to his room, mumbling to himself, "A bloke tries to helpful and he gets his head bit off!"

Once back in his room, Ron noticed that Crookshanks had once again taken up residence on his bed, and was curled up and looking quite comfortable atop his Chudley Cannons bedspread. Ron sat down on the bed and began scratching the cat behind its ears.

"Hey, Crooksy, guess what," Ron said with a smile as he continued to pet Hermione's cat, "'Mione comes home tomorrow night. Do you know what that means?"

He looked down expectantly at the cat, even though he knew the cat was _not_ going to reply to him. A wicked grin grew across Ron's face as he stopped scratching the cat and grabbed the edge of his bedspread.

"It means that tonight is the last time I'm going to have to do _this_!" Ron stood up quickly and yanked the bedspread off the bed, sending Crookshanks careening onto the floor in a growling, hissing flash of fluffy orange fur.

Ron got up and changed into his pajamas and was just getting into bed, when Harry came through the door. Acting as if he didn't notice his best mate enter the room, Ron covered up and closed his eyes, intent on getting a good night's sleep for what tomorrow would bring.

"Alright there, Ron?" Harry asked as he settled down into his own bed.

"Oh…are you speaking normally to me now?" Ron said, eyes still closed.

"Oh come off it, mate," Harry groaned, "How would _you_ feel if you were in the loo and someone came along and started asking you questions? I think I was an awful lot nicer than you'd have been."

"You've got a point there, mate," Ron chuckled, opening his eyes, "But…everything okay? I heard you say George's name…err…he wasn't in there _with_ you, was he?"

"WHAT?!" Harry sat up, glaring at his friend, not sure what his best friend might possibly be implying, but not liking it nonetheless "Ron…err…George slipped something into my pumpkin juice the other day, and it's…err…given me a sour stomach. You see? That's why I was yelling his name. It's really…err…uncomfortable."

"Eww…" Ron screwed up his face in disgust, "Guess that's why he's been taking the mickey out of you all week instead of me."

"Exactly!" Harry lied, laying back down, "It makes using the loo…err…messy."

"Ugh…Harry!" Ron groaned, rolling over and pulling the covers over his head, "I don't need to hear about it, mate!"

Harry laughed softly to himself before lying back down, removing his glasses, and rolling over to go to sleep. His deception should, at least, keep Ron from asking too many questions should he be overheard in the bathroom again by his best mate.

Harry shuddered as he thought about his recent bathroom visits and how…messy…they were. He cursed George and his idiotic (but ingenious) inventions, and wished that the month was already over and he could finally relieve his bladder like a normal seventeen-year-old boy instead of things…spraying everywhere like a busted hosepipe.

"Thank Merlin for Scouring and Drying charms," Harry mumbled to himself as he closed his eyes and let slumber take him.

Across the room, Harry's redheaded counterpart was just about to nod off himself when a large orange furball jumped up onto the bed, startling him.

"Bloody Hell, Crookshanks!" Ron yelled, swatting at the cat, "Go away already! This is _my_ bed! Go sleep in Ginny's room on 'Mione's bed!"

The cat ignored him (as cat's will do) and glared at him with its big green eyes, slowly slinking closer and closer until the two ginger-haired occupants of the bed were nose-to-nose. Ron swallowed a loud gulp, thinking for sure that Crookshanks was about to rip his face to shreds for having tossed him off the bed so unceremoniously each night for the past week. He was sure that any sudden movement on his part – such as quickly shoving the cat off the bed – would cause Crookshanks to strike.

"Now listen here, Crookshanks," Ron said trying not to sound nervous. He'd never let the cat get this close to his unprotected face before, and it was a bit unnerving, "I don't know what you're planning in that wee cat brain of yours, but Hermione would be awfully cross with you if she came back from Australia to find the man she loves missing an eye or part of his nose. I don't think she fancies the Mad-Eye Moody look."

Ron could have sworn the cat rolled its eyes at him, then. Cats _can't_ roll their eyes, but it certainly seemed to Ron that _that_ is what Crookshanks would've done if he could. To Ron's surprise, instead of attacking him, the squish-faced monster merely turned about once or twice and then curled up in a ball on the bed in front of him. Ron watched the cat for some sort of sign that, as soon as his guard was down, he'd be attacked. However, it soon became apparent that Crookshanks was asleep.

"Well…I suppose…just for tonight, mind you. Hermione's home tomorrow, and you'll be back with her," Ron yawned and closed his eyes, reaching out to scratch the cat behind the ears once more before settling in to sleep, "'Night Crookshanks."

* * *

"UGH! CROOKSHANKS!! Get your bloody arse out of my face, you flea-bitten doorstop!"

The feeling of a furry tail brushing across his nose and smacking him in the forehead over and over again had awakened Ronald Weasley a good half-an-hour before his alarm clock was set to go off. Opening his eyes, Ron found himself staring deeply into Crookshanks' hind-end. Not exactly a panoramic vista worth writing home about.

"Ruddy beast!" Ron yelled, sitting up and shoving Crookshanks off the bed as hard as he could, "See what happens when I'm nice to you? Never again!!"

Laughter from across the room drew Ron's attention to where his best mate was sitting on his camp bed grinning like a madman.

"Think this is funny, Potter?" Ron griped, throwing a pillow at his best friend, smacking him in the head, "Let that bloody cat sleep in _your_ bed tonight, then, so you can wake up with a nose full of cat arse!"

"Calm down, Ron," Harry chuckled, tossing the pillow back at Ron, who caught it, "Isn't Hermione coming home tonight? I suspect Crookshanks will be sleeping with _her_ from now on."

"Hey, that's right!" Ron smiled, hoping out of bed, "Listen, mate, about that…I need a favor."

"If it's to find someplace else to sleep so you and Hermione can shag in here, forget it!" Harry laughed, "Remember what your Mum said!"

"No, you prat," Ron grimaced, "I need you to go with me to pick Hermione up. She's afraid I won't be able to find my way around Heathcliff Airport."

"Heath_row_, Ron," Harry said, smiling brightly, "I can't imagine why she'd think you'd get lost."

"Shut it, Harry," Ron snapped in annoyance, "Are you going to come or not?"

"Sure I'll come, Ron," Harry nodded, "It'll be great to see Hermione again…nice to have her home."

Ron nodded his agreement and thanked Harry before gathering some clean clothes and heading to the bathroom for a shower to begin his daily routine before heading off to work at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. He got a little sentimental as he realized his days at the Burrow were numbered; he'd soon be moving to the flat above the shop with George. He ran his fingers along the old, cracked plaster walls on his way to his shower. He would miss this place, but the prospect of getting out on his own…taking one more step towards being a man capable of taking care of a wife and family…excited him.

The day had passed quickly for Ron, but not nearly quick enough, as he spent much of the workday looking at the clock on the wall or checking his watch, drawing several good-natured scoldings from George, such as "A watched clock never makes Muggle hairplanes fly faster!" George was right, of course, and no amount of clock watching made the workday end any sooner.

Once the shop finally did close, however, Ron was out the door in a shot, stopping only briefly at one of the shops in Diagon Alley before Apparating back to the Burrow. Ron quickly wolfed down three helpings of dinner, drawing concerned admonishment from his mother, "Chew or you'll choke, Ronald, dear." He ignored her, only to prove her correct as a rather large bite of barely-chewed roast chicken lodged itself firmly in his throat. A hardy slapping on the back by Ginny soon had Ron breathing once again.

Showered and changed into a smart button-down shirt and pair of navy trousers, Ron was soon on his way to London alongside Harry, dressed in a pair of ripped jeans and an old Muggle t-shirt. When Ron looked disapprovingly at the way Harry was dressed, the raven-haired boy defended his clothing choice, "What? She's in love with _you_, mate, I'm just the best friend."

Getting to the airport was rather easy, thanks to the Knight Bus.

"Heapglow Airport," Ron said as he climbed aboard the big purple bus, "London."

"_Heathrow_!" Harry corrected as he followed Ron onto the bus, "Heathrow Airport…London."

In a significantly short period of time, looking a bit greener than they had before they'd gotten on, Ron and Harry stepped off the magical triple-decker bus and made their way towards the entrance to the airport. It was incredibly noisy, as it had been at the airport in Sydney, and it was just one more reason for Ron to dislike Muggle air travel.

"Y'know, brooms don't make this much bloody noise," Ron said to Harry as they approached the airport terminal.

"Yeah, but you can't fit 400 people on a broom," Harry replied, with a grin, "And there's no food or in-flight movie. Plus, could you imagine how uncomfortable it would be to fly ten-thousand miles astride a broomstick?"

"Gah! Point made, Harry," Ron said, grimacing in imagined pain, "Your bits would feel like they're about to fall off if you rode a broom _that_ far…even with the Cushioning charm."

Harry blushed and cleared his throat, wanting to suddenly drop the subject. They stepped in front of the glass doors leading into the terminal and they slid open on their own as if by…

"Magic!" Ron exclaimed, looking agog at the doors as they passed through them, "I thought Muggles didn't have magic, Harry."

"That's because they don't, Ron," Harry said, rolling his eyes, "It's a machine. A little device above the door sees you coming and using electrical motors or something and the door opens."

"I knew that," Ron grumbled as they walked up to a large board displaying the incoming flights, their status, and their estimated arrival times, "Muggles love their ekletricity."

"Yeah, they do," Harry looked up at the board, searching for Hermione's flight.

"So, what're we waiting for, mate?" Ron asked, looking impatiently at Harry, "Let's go get Hermione."

"We've got to find the gate where her flight's coming in," Harry explained, "Honestly, Ron, you were just _at_ an airport. How can you _not_ know how this works?"

"Y'know, Harry, when you say '_honestly, Ron_' like that, you sound just like Hermione," Ron frowned at his best mate, "Not nearly as cute when _you_ nag me, though. Kind of a pain in the arse, really, if you must know."

"Do you want my help or not?" Harry snapped bitingly, "Well…?"

"You know I _do_…besides," Ron said, smirking, "Do you want to explain to Hermione why her boyfriend and her _best_ friend weren't there to welcome her when she and her parents first stepped foot in England? Imagine how heartbroken our _best_ friend will be when --…"

"Alright, shut it, already!" Harry snapped, "Look…there's her flight…Flight 301…arriving at Gate 19…in about thirty minutes."

"Cheers, mate!" Ron said with a smile, "Let's go."

Harry grumbled as Ron slapped him happily on the back.

They made their way briskly towards the arrival gate to wait for the Grangers' flight to arrive, only slowing down when they had to pass through security. When they arrived at Gate 19, they sat down in the waiting area among the Muggles waiting for their own loved ones to arrive. Ron was busy staring out the windows for some sign of Hermione's flight while Harry's attention was suddenly drawn to a flash of red hair moving amongst the crowd of Muggles.

"Hey, Ron, didn't you say someone from the Ministry was supposed to come and meet the Grangers?" Harry asked, trying to draw Ron's attention away from the windows.

"Yeah…so?" Ron was still looking outside.

"I think I know who the Ministry sent," Harry said, grabbing Ron's shoulder to get his attention.

"Who?" Ron asked, turning to face Harry, and then looking off in the direction Harry pointed.

"Hello, Ronald."

"Percy?!" Ron exclaimed, jumping to his feet, "The Ministry sent _you_ to greet Hermione's parents?"

"Indeed they did," Percy nodded stiffly.

"Why the bloody Hell didn't you say something?" Ron asked angrily.

"Frankly, Ronald," Percy replied snootily, "This is official _Ministry_ business, and as you aren't employed by the Ministry, my assignment is none of your concern."

Ron sighed and threw his hands up in frustration. Percy always got like this when it came to his job. It was one of the things that made him so unpopular with his siblings in the past.

"All I'm saying, Percy, is if you had _told_ me you were the one assigned to meet Hermione and her parents, we could have come with _you_ instead of taking our lives in our hands riding the bloody Knight Bus!"

"There's no need for profanity, Ronald," Percy scolded, "You couldn't have ridden with me anyway, as you and Harry aren't authorized to be passengers in the car the Ministry assigned me to bring the Grangers back to their home."

"_Authorized_? Bloody He--…Harry! Help me out here," Ron looked exasperatedly at his friend for some assistance.

Harry just shook his head and waved him off, "It's a lost cause, Ron. Voldemort was more compromising."

Percy quirked an eyebrow at Harry and frowned, "There's no need to be insulting about it. I'm just doing my job."

"Fine, Percy," Ron said, walking away from his brother, "Whatever you say."

Ron moved away from Percy and sat, watching outside as a large plane started to roll up towards the window. Quaffle-sized butterflies started to fly laps in his stomach as he anticipated seeing his girlfriend again. This was one of those moments he told Harry he thought about, instead on dwelling on being apart for any length of time. Anytime Ron got to reunite with Hermione like this was special, and needed to be turned into an event.

Harry moved over and put a friendly hand on Ron's shoulder, "You ready, mate?"

"Yeah, in a minute," Ron said, looking around, "Harry, stand in front of me for a moment…"

"What? Why?" Harry asked, perplexed.

"Because you're so bloody thick you make the perfect human shield," Ron quipped, pulling out his wand once he was sure none of the Muggles could see what he was doing.

"Ron! Are you mad…pulling out your wand, here?" Harry whispered harshly, suddenly looking around him very nervously, "What if the Muggles see? And with Perfect Percy right here, too!"

"Now you know what you're supposed to be blocking," Ron griped at him, "Now, quit nagging me before the Muggles start thinking we're a couple."

Harry shut his mouth, by glared angrily at Ron, "Maybe if you thought things through more thoroughly, I wouldn't _have_ to nag!"

Ron pulled a small bundle out of his shirt pocket and aimed his wand at it. Wordlessly casting an Engorgement Charm, the bundle expanded to full size revealing a dozen long-stemmed black roses, "I don't know why you're so pissy lately, mate…I tell ya', Harry, if you weren't dating my sister, I'd suggest you needed to get laid! But, as you _are_ dating my sister, maybe you need to get drunk. A pissed drunk Harry is highly preferable to a pissed _off_ Harry."

Harry growled and stormed across the room, standing near Percy, but not before snapping once more at Ron, "What sort of idiot buys his girlfriend _black_ roses!"

Ron ignored the comment, doing his best to clear his mind of the aggravation and anger he felt because of Harry's current mood. He wasn't sure what brought it on…maybe Harry was angry that he'd been neglecting their friendship for the last week. Whatever it was, Ron decided to worry about it later. Now was the time to concentrate on Hermione. As he thought about her, Ron could literally feel his agitation drain from his body, drawing a bright smile from him. Standing up, he looked down at the bundle in his hand…a dozen deep red roses shone back at him.

The doors to the jetway opened and passengers started making their way into the waiting area. Every single one of them looked tired and rumpled. A twenty-two hour transoceanic flight will do that to a person. As each of the exhausted-looking Muggles stepped through the doors, Ron grew more anxious. He'd be seeing Hermione soon…she'd be back home, finally, and they'd have the whole summer together.

The first of the Grangers to catch Ron's eye was Hermione's father, and in short succession, Mrs. Granger and then Hermione herself filed through the doors into the waiting area. Ron called out to them and waved to draw their attention to him, and he hurried over to the travel-weary family.

"Welcome back to England," Ron said with a smile, shaking hands with Mr. Granger and giving Mrs. Granger a quick hug and shy peck on the cheek.

"Thank you, Ronald," Mrs. Granger said, managing a smile.

"It's good to be back," Mr. Granger said, clapping Ron companionably on the shoulder.

"And you…" Ron said, turning to face Hermione, "These are for you. Welcome home!"

Ron handed her the roses and gave her a quick peck on the lips, not wanting to kiss her too passionately in front of her parents.

"Ron, their beautif--…" before Hermione could finish commenting on how lovely the roses were that Ron had given her, their deep red color faded to grey. She looked up at her boyfriend, confusion and sadness washing over her face.

"I'm sorry, 'Mione," Ron groaned, running his fingers nervously through his hair, "I should've thought this through better."

"What…?"

"They're Mood Roses," Ron explained, "I picked them up in Diagon Alley earlier. The color of the roses reflects what you're feeling. Grey must be _tired_." Ron looked crestfallen.

"What does red mean?" she asked.

"Uh…_love_."

Hermione smiled, and suddenly the roses changed from grey to yellow, "And this must mean _happy_," she said looking down at the roses' new color, "Thank you, Ron, they're lovely."

She stood up on her tip-toes and kissed him. Ron put his arms around her, and she quickly melted into the hug. He could feel how tired she was. Unfortunately, he also knew the night wasn't over for them yet. He kissed the top of her head, wishing he could just whisk her away back to the Burrow for some alone time.

"Hey…is there no love for the _best _friend?" Harry asked, walking up and opening his arms for his own hug.

Looking over, Ron was momentarily reminded of Mal as the Grangers left Sydney, and the urge to deal with Harry the same way he'd dealt with Mal almost overcame him.

"Harry!" Hermione yelled, reluctantly pulling away from Ron and throwing herself into the dark haired boy's arms, "I've missed you so much!"

"I've missed you, too," Harry said, smiling, "Things just haven't been the same without you."

"I bet!" Hermione laughed, "No voice of reason around to keep you and Ron from getting into trouble!"

"Hey! I've been too busy to get into trouble," Ron said defensively.

"It didn't look that way last Sunday," Harry quipped, shooting Ron a mischievous smirk.

"What happened Sunday?" Hermione asked looking between the two young men, "Ron?"

"I'll tell you later," he said, waving her off.

"And if _he_ doesn't," Harry said, grinning wickedly, "_I_ will."

Ron grimaced. The urge to give Harry a taste of what Mal received was becoming increasingly more difficult to resist. Before Ron could lash out at his best mate, either verbally _or_ physically, another voice made itself known.

"Ahem!"

Everyone looked over to the thin, bespectacled redhead in the very dignified-looking Muggle business suit.

"Percy?" Hermione looked more than a bit surprised to see her boyfriend's older brother.

"Miss Granger," Percy replied, nodding to her. He then turned to each of her parents, nodding as he said their names, "Mr. Granger…Mrs. Granger. Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Percival Weasley, Special Assistant to the Minister for Magic. I have been assigned to escort you to your lodgings for this evening, and to escort you to your residence in the morning."

"Ron, what…?" Hermione looked to her boyfriend, confused by Percy's demeanor.

"Ignore him, 'Mione," Ron said, scowling at his brother, "Percy's in full-on Ministry mode right now. Official business and all that. Prat."

"Oh," Hermione sighed at how ridiculous Percy seemed right now, calling her _Miss Granger_. Ron put his arm around her and she snuggled into him, her exhaustion starting to get the better of her.

"I believe you were given a piece of parchment by one Malcolm Majeebers of the Australian Ministry," Percy continued, paying no attention to the conversation his brother was having with his girlfriend, "If you would kindly hand me the parchment, we can be on our way."

Mr. Granger gave Percy the parchment, and he quickly scanned its contents. Nodding curtly, Percy instructed the Grangers to follow him. Harry, Ron, and Hermione followed closely behind. It took some time to get everything squared away, but eventually the six of them made their way outside with Ron, Harry, and Mr. Granger carrying the luggage. Percy led them to the Ministry car he'd been assigned for the night, and after assisting them with getting the luggage stored in the boot of the car, Percy addressed Harry and Ron.

"I'll give you a moment to say your goodbyes," Percy said, still doing his best to sound officious, "But then we really must be off. It _is_ late, and I'm sure the Grangers are tired."

"I don't understand," Hermione said, once again looking from Percy to Ron, "Aren't you coming with us?"

"Perfect Percy won't let us ride in the Ministry car," Ron sneered, shooting his brother a disgusted look.

"I told you before, Ronald," Percy said before climbing into the car, "This vehicle is for official Ministry business, and you and Harry…"

"Don't work at the Ministry," Harry finished, rolling his eyes, "You told us this already, Percy."

Percy sniffed, as if insulted by Harry's interruption. He was only doing his job after all. Without another word, Percy slid behind the wheel of the car, closed the door, and started the engine.

"Well, Ron," Mr. Granger said, trying to break the tension, "I guess we'll see you later then. You're always welcome at the Granger house."

"Thank you, sir," Ron said, shaking his hand, "I really do appreciate it."

Mrs. Granger stepped up and took him into a hug, kissing his cheek, "And don't forget…we're going to have you over to dinner one night very soon."

"I can't wait," Ron said with a smile.

"It was nice seeing you again, Harry," Mr. Granger said, shaking Harry's hand.

"It certainly was," Mrs. Granger agreed, stepping in and giving Harry a slight hug.

"It was nice seeing you, as well," Harry said feeling a bit uncomfortable around Hermione's parents. His experience with the Grangers consisted of a few brief encounters at King's Cross Station each June; he wasn't nearly as comfortable with them as Ron apparently was.

Harry looked at his two best friends standing next to her parents, while he stood off to the side. He realized that he and his two best friends were growing up and growing apart…or, at least, the two of them were growing apart from him…and although it was the slightest of signs, Ron's familiarity with his girlfriend's family was a sign of that growth. He wondered if they would still be close in a year's time…in five years' time…in ten.

The Grangers got into the car while Ron and Hermione said their goodbyes. He took her in his arms and kissed her deeply and she held onto him for dear life. When they broke the kiss, he held her hand and helped her into the backseat of the car, next to her mother. As she looked down at the roses Ron had given her, the petals turned blue…an obvious sign of her sadness.

Once the car doors were closed, Percy didn't hesitate before driving off. Ron and Hermione waved at each other as the black sedan disappeared into the night. Ron sighed mournfully once all he could see was the blur of the car's taillights fading into the darkness.

"Come on, Ron," Harry said, clapping his hand on his friend's shoulder, "Let's go home."

"Yeah, home," Ron repeated dully, thinking to himself that _home_ for him had just driven off into the night.

The two young men took out their wands preparing to Apparate back to the Burrow.

"Things could get worse," Harry said just as he started to Disapparate, "You could wake up with Crookshanks' arse in your face again tomorrow."

_Crack!_

Harry disappeared, leaving Ron alone in the dark parking lot as what Harry said suddenly registered.

"Bloody Hell!! Crookshanks!!"

* * *

**Author's End Notes: **Yay! Hermione's home!! That means the Trio can get back to doing stuff together...or will they? Are Ron and Hermione growing away from Harry? Will his bits ever come back? Why is the Minister coming to dinister...err...dinner? Will Crookshanks and Ron ever get along? Some of these questions MIGHT be answered next time...so check back for Ch. 25. It'll be up as soon as I write it!! (Check back tomorrow.)


	25. Ron Finds Out

**Author's Notes:** I suggested that some questions might be answered this chapter, and to be honest, I don't think I answered ANY of them!! Sorry to anyone who was hoping for some great enlightenment in this chapter. Slowly moving forward, that's what I'm doing here. You'll be glad I went slow when I start fast-forwarding through huge chunks of the summer as the end of this fic closes in.

I'm changing the Genre of this story officially from "General" to Romance/Comedy, although I wish they had Dramedy as a category, as there's some drama in here, too. It was suggested that this story needs action...but I'm sorry, this isn't an action fic. I have another fic planned that will have action, but this isn't it.

One of my FRIENDS last night, in the Author's Notes of the 6th chapter of her story LATE WINTER'S NIGHT'S DREAM called me "Horribly Mean, Girly, Twit Like, and can't talk olde english to save his life". And while I'll own up to being a bit TWIT LIKE and that I can't talk olde english to save my life, I take umbridge at the HORRIBLY MEAN and I am far from GIRLY. I swore to her that I'd get her back in my own public forum (here), but the fact is I'm too much of a gentleman. I will, however, say this...if you enjoy Shakespeare and Harry Potter, check out her fic. If you don't enjoy Shakespeare and Harry Potter...check it out anyway!

And now it's time to thank you wonderful readers who have REVIEWED my work! **Edinburgh Love**, **Ann Malfoy**, **Cantletharrygo**, **CutewithAcapital-Q**, **fatyellowrat**, **Avanell**, **Dizzy0305**, **katie1985**, **Elytha**, **Trude**, **mugglemama**, **emmy1124**, **Emma.Jane-HPfan**, **Moony3005**, **IsI Wisi**, **Lady Anja**, **embergrl9010**, **the written princess**, **MissFinnegan**, **Tiffany M**, **kareem33**, **randomguy1517**, **Shlesha**, **ronniemione**,** sarah-keyko**, **not for lack of trying**, **Emm04**, **Jacob's-One-Girl**, **Ravenhaired2**, and **Nosta82**, **Aly-Cat 101**, **EnglishGirlVerity**,** marauders rox**, **Lane Joey**, **allenterrill**, **skippyboo**, **Larelles**, **kellymc1** (who created an account JUST so she could send me a wonderfully flattering review!), **xxafterglowxx**, and **screamxheart** are just the WORLD'S FINEST REVIEWERS and I value each and every one of them! Thank you so much for each of your 221 reviews!

**Disclaimer: **J.K.R. owns this stuff.

* * *

**"Aftermath"**

**Chapter 25 -- Ron Finds Out**

When Ron Weasley got back to the Burrow, Harry Potter was already in the room they shared, getting ready for bed. A bit annoyed at Harry for the way he acted at the airport, Ron decided to stay away from the bedroom for a bit, to give Harry time to fall asleep before he, too, went to bed.

Making his way down to the kitchen, Ron was a bit surprised to find Ginny sitting at the table looking all forlorn as she stirred a cup of tea. She looked up when he walked in and tried to force a smile.

"Hey, Gin," Ron said, a look of concern flashing across his face, "What're you still doing up?"

"Can't sleep," she sighed, looking down at her tea. Ron could tell there was more to it, though.

"So, what's bothering you so much you can't sleep?" he asked, sitting down across from her.

"Harry," Ginny replied, her voice cracking a bit, "You're his best friend…has he said anything about me?"

"Like what?" Ron asked, confused.

"Well, lately," she explained, "He's just really distant and he gets angry very easily…especially when we're…uh…snogging."

Ron rolled his eyes. He did _not_ want to hear about his best mate and his sister snogging, "If it's any consolation, Gin, he's been a bit short with me, too."

"Yeah, but he used to like it when we snogged," Ginny went on, traveling a bit too far into the land of _too much information_, "But now, it's like we'll just get _really_ into it, and he'll start yelling at me…telling me not to touch him and to get off him. I think he wants to finish with me."

"Gin…come on, do you really think so?" Ron asked, leaning back in his chair, "You know how Harry is. He gets moody."

"This is different, though, Ron. Ever since we got caught sleeping together --…"

"YOU WHAT?!" Ron jumped up out of his chair, his face flashing with anger. Ginny's eyes widened as realization dawned on her.

"You didn't know? I thought everyone knew…it's why Mum was so mad…oh wait…you were in Australia when it happened."

"YOU BLOODY SHAGGED HARRY?!" Ron yelled, not caring that his voice could very well wake the whole house.

"Ron, you're such a prat!" she snapped, standing up and balling her fists in anger, "This is old news! Mum already read us the riot act over this, so you can just stop with the angry big brother routine!"

"But…!"

"We. SLEPT!" she hissed, moving around the table to poke him in the chest, "We didn't shag! We didn't do…whatever the Hell it is _you_ did with Hermione! He doesn't have a pair of _my_ knickers under his pillow!! Which, by the way, is kind of _creepy_!!"

"It was YOU!!" Ron roared, "You went snooping in my room and showed 'Mione's knickers to Mum!!"

"Actually…it was Harry," Ginny said, blushing, "BUT THAT'S NOT THE POINT!!"

"I'm gonna kill 'im!!" Ron seathed, "I'm gonna effing KILL HIM!!"

"YOU'RE GONNA LEAVE HIM ALONE!!" Ginny yelled, punching him in the arm.

"'Mione's gonna kill him!!" Ron ranted, no longer listening to his sister, "When she finds out what Mum said about her…she's gonna die of embarrassment and then she's gonna kill Harry for getting into her knickers…and then she's gonna kill ME for not putting them someplace more secure!"

"Are you even listening to me anymore, Ron?"

"I wonder if I can get away with Obliviating my whole family…" Ron said to himself, running his fingers through his hair as he left the kitchen and headed upstairs.

"Hey! I'm still talking to you!" Ginny shrieked to her brother's retreating back, "You prat!!"

Ginny stamped her foot in frustration. She was furious with her brother now and was no closer to having her problem with Harry solved. She kicked the table and yelled in a mix of anger and pain, hopping on one foot as she held the other foot, rubbing it to alleviate the pain.

Leaving his volatile sister behind, Ron climbed the steps to his attic bedroom. He kicked open the door, not caring if he woke up Harry in the process. He stormed into the middle of the room and looked at his best friend as he slept in peaceful repose.

_"I should kill him," _Ron thought, grinding his teeth in anger at his _former_ best friend, _"I should just whip out my wand and Avada Kadavra the little git…it'd be worth the trip to Azkaban!!"_

Ron walked up to Harry's bed, taking his wand out of his back pocket. Jaw still clenched, he aimed the wand right at Harry's face, opened his mouth, and angrily yelled out a spell.

* * *

Ginny hopped over to a chair and dropped heavily into it, rubbing her toes vigorously, cursing her brother the entire time. He could be such a prat…always being so overprotective of her. It's a wonder she ever got a boyfriend in the first place with Ron threatening to beat each of them up if they ever stepped out of line.

It's not like anything happened between her and Harry…a little groping perhaps, but always above the waist…not that it was any of Ron's business! Sometimes she hated having older brothers…especially older brothers with the Weasley temper. At least she never had to worry about Percy or George doing something stupid like trying to intimidate Harry.

"Ron is such an arse--…"

_Crack!_

The sound of someone Apparating into the garden drew Ginny's attention away from her boyfriend and brother problems. Ginny jumped to her feet, forgetting the soreness from earlier. She suddenly felt very alone and wished very much that Ron hadn't gone upstairs. At the very least, she wished she still had her wand.

She could hear someone walking through the grass towards the back door and Ginny hurried to the rack above the stove, grabbing a heavy, cast-iron frying pan. She didn't have a wand, but if the unknown visitor was looking for trouble, she'd at least have a makeshift weapon.

The backdoor to the Burrow opened slowly, as if whoever was opening it was trying hard not to make any noise. Ginny crept up behind the door, frying pan held high in the air, ready to strike. A bushy head of chestnut colored hair drew Ginny's attention as the intruder entered the kitchen. Dropping the frying pan on the floor with a loud _clang_, the youngest Weasley started squealing happily as she threw her arms around the Burrow's surprise visitor.

"HERMIONEEEEEEEE!!" Ginny screamed out in glee as she hugged her best friend as tightly as she could, "I missed you soooooooo much!! Oh my God!! How was Australia?! Did you bring me anything? How are your parents?! Are they okay? Were they mad? Did they forgive you?! Did they like my brother?! Oh my God! I bet they HATED him…didn't they?! Oh my God, Hermione you just absolutely have to tell me EVERYTHING!!"

Hermione couldn't help but laugh as she returned the hug to her very best girlfriend on the whole planet. It was so good to see her again, "Calm down, Gin, I can only answer one question at a time!"

"Okay…okay!" Ginny gushed, pulling Hermione all the way into the kitchen and leading her to a chair, "Sit!! You want some tea?"

"No, I'm fine, Ginny," Hermione replied looking at the large iron pan laying on the floor, "Were you going to hit me with that?"

Ginny blushed and laughed nervously, "Heh…yeah…uhm…I didn't know who you were. Thought maybe you could be…I dunno…a rogue Death Eater or something. I'm so sorry!"

"It's okay," Hermione laughed, "Better safe than sorry. At least you didn't actually _hit_ me!"

"Yeah, my prat of a brother would be pissed!" Ginny laughed.

"You're brother's not a prat, Ginny," Hermione scolded, "What did he do now?"

Before Ginny could answer Hermione's question, a yell from upstairs drew their attention. It sounded like Harry.

"Oh God!!" Ginny exclaimed, running for the stairs, "I didn't think he was serious!"

"What's going on, Ginny?" Hermione asked desperately as she ran up the stairs close on the redhead's heels.

"It's Ron!" Ginny called over her shoulder as she hurried up the stairs, "I think he's beating up Harry!"

* * *

_Aguamenti!_

Ron smiled wickedly as a stream of water shot out of his wand and hit Harry right in the face.

"WHA…GAH…ACK!!" Harry threw his hands in front of his face trying to block the flow of water, coughing and sputtering as he sat up quickly in bed, "Ron…what the Hell?!"

Once Harry was awake, Ron ended the spell and then cast a quick Drying charm to clean up the mess before his mother found out about. When he finished, he moved over to his own bed, pushed Crookshanks out of the way, and sat with his arm across his chest glaring at his best friend.

"Are you going to tell me what this is all about, Ron?" Harry asked angrily, sweeping the wet mop of hair out of his face and putting his glasses on.

"Had to wake you up somehow, _mate_," Ron said spitefully.

"Wake me up? Why the Bloody hell would you need to wake me up, Ron?" Harry snapped, flustered, "Are you mental?"

"I know you slept with Ginny," Ron said coldly.

"I…oh," Harry replied, his anger fading quickly as a sheepish look spread across his face, "Uh…what're you going to do?"

Before Ron could answer him, the door to his bedroom burst open and Ginny came rushing in, followed closely by Hermione.

"Leave him alone, Ron!" Ginny yelled, throwing herself in front of Harry, "We didn't DO anything!!"

Hermione, out of breath, plopped down on Ron's bed next to him, "Ron…what's this all about?"

"'Mione?" Ron looked at her, confused by her presence, "What are you doing here?"

"Answer my question first, Ron," Hermione said, looking a bit cross, "What is going on here?"

"'Mione…" Ron rolled his eyes.

"No…don't _'Mione_ me, Ron," she said, glaring at him, "Answer me! You've got your sister running around the house screaming while everyone is trying to sleep and you're doing something up here that's making Harry yell, as well. So, obviously, Ronald, you did _something_ wrong."

"So you immediately take _their_ side, without even knowing the fact?" Ron was now returning her glare while, across the room Harry and Ginny just sat back and watched, knowing that the couple across from them was once again on the verge of one of their famous rows.

"Well, I don't know _your_ side, do I, Ron?" Hermione replied, haltingly, "Why don't you _tell_ me your side, so I can make my decision?"

"Fine," Ron growled, "It turns out that while I was in Australia last Sunday, our _supposed_ best friend _slept_ with my baby _sister_!"

"Ginny!" Hermione exclaimed, looking across the room at the redheaded girl, "You didn't tell me _that_!"

"I didn't have a chance!" Ginny exclaimed, "And NOTHING HAPPENED!!"

"Honestly, Ginny, there's no need to yell," Hermione said in a slightly scolding voice, "We're right here. Now, Ron, if Ginny told you nothing happened, then why didn't you believe her?"

Ron rolled his eyes and scoffed at her, "Oh come on! If they _had_ done something do you think she'd admit it? Of _course_ she said nothing happened!"

"Oh!" Ginny exclaimed, eyes blazing, as she jumped up off Harry's bed, "So when Mum was yelling at _you_ last week about shagging Hermione and you said nothing happened, were _you_ lying then?"

"What?!" Hermione's eyes widened and her face paled, "We didn't…we never…your MOTHER THINKS WE SHAGGED?! Why would she think that?!"

Hermione looked to Ron for the answer, but he sheepishly looked down at his feet.

"Mum found your knickers," Ginny said shyly, sitting back down, "And the note."

"WHAT?!" Now it was Hermione's turn to jump up and start yelling, she rounded on Ron and started slapping him in about the head and shoulders, "YOU LET YOUR MOTHER FIND MY KNICKERS AND THAT NOTE?! HOW COULD YOU?! I can NEVER face your mother AGAIN, Ron! I hope you're happy!! She must think I'm some sort of…of…"

"Scarlet woman," Ron, Ginny, and Harry supplied in unison.

"Thank you," Hermione hissed sarcastically, "She must think I swept in here and seduced her baby boy with my feminine wiles! I'm so embarrassed! Ron, how could you?!"

"It wasn't me, 'Mione," Ron said defensively, "It was Harry! Besides…Mum thought _I_ seduced _you_…with my manly wiles and such."

"Oh, please, as if you could ever seduce me!" Hermione scoffed, causing Ron to quirk his eyebrows at her, "And…wait a minute…how did Harry get my knickers?"

"He was snooping!" Ron snapped, glaring at Harry.

"I was trying to find out where you disappeared to!" Harry retorted angrily.

"And you thought there was a clue in my knickers?" Hermione asked, furrowing her brow at him, "I'm sorry Harry, but you should have put them back as soon as you found them, instead of giving them to Mrs. Weasley."

"I didn't _give_ them to her," Harry said, looking guiltily down at his feet, "I guess Ginny and I left them out when she and I fell asleep…snogging."

"You didn't think to put them away?" Hermione asked, exasperated, "Didn't you think a pair of girls' knickers on a boy's bed might draw suspicion especially if there was a _note_ explaining what they were for?! I'm sorry Harry, but that was just…well…stupid."

"It wasn't stupid!" Ginny snapped jumping up again, "We were trying to get the horrible image of you two shagging out of our heads, so we forgot that the bloody knickers where out! Pretty soon we were so exhausted from distracting each other that we fell asleep…and SLEPT!"

"It still shouldn't have happened," Ron said, glaring back and forth between Harry and Ginny.

"And what about what you did with Hermione?!" Ginny snapped, glaring back at him.

"That shouldn't have happened either," Hermione said using every bit of her best Prefect voice, "Seeing as all the trouble it's caused, it was a mistake."

"'Mione…you don't mean that," Ron said, eyes full of surprise.

"I do, Ron," she replied, nodding stiffly, "Had that not happened, you wouldn't have had my knickers, _they_ wouldn't have found them and needed to distract themselves, they wouldn't have slept together and your mother wouldn't have seen any of what she saw, you lot wouldn't have gotten in trouble, and I would still be able to look that sweet woman in the eye!"

"'Mione, come on…" Ron tried to put an arm around her but she jumped off the bed before he could.

"I'd better go. Let me just collect Crookshanks and I'll leave. Come here, Crookshanks!" Hermione called to her cat that was still lying curled up on Ron's bed, "Come over here Crookshanks!!" The cat opened up one green eye and looked at her before shutting it and going back to sleep, "Oh you stupid cat!! Ron, hand him here, please?"

"'Mione, the cat is asleep…he's comfortable…leave him be," Ron said in his best soothing voice. He was still incredibly angry at the whole situation, but he realized that Hermione was upset and needed to be handled delicately…unless he wanted her to blow up in his face, "Crookshanks can spend the night here, and you can come get him in the morning."

"I can't, Ron! I can't face your family!!" she said desperately. Hermione was close to the edge. She'd be crying soon if she didn't calm down, "You'll have to bring him to me! The Ministry put us up in _The Leaky Cauldron_ for tonight. We'll be leaving for our house around Ten O'clock, so you have to bring him to me before then."

"Okay, fine," Ron nodded, willing to agree to anything to keep her from crying.

"Good. Thank you, Ronald."

Before Ron could say _you're welcome_ or try to calm her down any more, Hermione Disapparated from the room with a loud _crack_! Ron looked at the spot she'd last occupied and grimaced. Not even so much as a _goodbye_, or a goodbye _kiss_ for that matter.

Ginny suddenly felt sorry for her brother, and her earlier anger was forgotten. She walked over and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, "She'll come around, you'll see. Just give her a couple days."

Ron nodded and smiled weakly up at his sister as she left the room. Once she was gone, an uncomfortable silence overtook Harry and Ron until the Boy-Who-Lived finally spoke up.

"You didn't have to try and drown me, mate," Harry said, referring to his rather wet wake-up-call.

"Harry, if I had wanted to drown you, I'd have shoved the bloody wand in your gob before casting the spell, instead of spraying you in the face with it!"

"I still don't understand why you're so pissed at me," Harry said indignantly, "You know I didn't do anything with Ginny."

"Ginny's too young for you to do anything with anyway," Ron replied, stone-faced.

"Oh…and Hermione's not?" Harry sniped, "You're such a hypocrite, Ron!"

"Hermione's eighteen, Harry," Ron explained, feeling like he was instructing a very slow child, "She's of age in our world _and_ the Muggle world. Ginny is still underage…at least until August. So, _until_ August, I'm going to keep playing Overprotective Big Brother anytime you do anything more than snog her."

"You know, with the exception of your father, you Weasley males are real pains in the arse where your sister's concerned."

"Think we're bad, now?" Ron laughed, "Watch what we do when you hurt her! You'll be lucky to make it out alive with your bits intact!"

Harry blushed and looked away, "Yeah…well…whatever. I'm going to bed…unless you plan on attacking me in my sleep again."

"You're safe for now," Ron replied, obviously still angry, "But this isn't over yet. Not until Hermione can be in a room with my mother and not feel like she's being judged."

Without another word, Harry got in bed, rolled over and went to sleep. Ron changed his clothes, putting on his pajamas, and he, too, got into bed. This time, however, instead of throwing Crookshanks off the bed, Ron carefully got in bed so as not to disturb the sleeping cat.

"You go home to 'Mione tomorrow, Crookshanks," Ron whispered to the cat, scratching it behind the ears, "Hopefully I'll think of some way to fix everything in the morning…otherwise this might be your last visit to the Burrow, and just think about all the garden gnomes you'll miss out on chasing."

Lying on his side, still gently petting the cat that was taking up the lion's share of his small bed, Ron Weasley fell asleep. Tomorrow was a new day, and with the new day came the prospect of hope…and sometimes hope was reason enough to get up in the morning.

* * *

It was Eight O'clock in the morning when Ron took the Floo Network to _The Leaky Cauldron_. He had an hour before he needed to be at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, which hopefully gave him just enough time to drop off Crookshanks, pick up some breakfast (which he'd had to skip in favor of battling the cat into its carrier), and head off to work.

He was greeted by Tom the Innkeeper, who, when asked, informed Ron of the room number for the Granger family. Politely thanking him (always pays to be polite to the people who handle your food and drink), Ron made his way upstairs, Crookshanks wailing mournfully from inside his carrier.

Ron knocked on the door, and a few seconds later, Hermione answered in her fuzzy pink bathrobe. Her hair was messy (messier than usual) and she looked as if she hadn't slept well.

"Oh. Hi, Ron," she said rather stiffly, "I didn't expect to see you so early."

"Well," he began to explain, "I have to be at in an hour. I hope I didn't wake you…"

"No," Hermione replied, stifling a yawn, "I've been up for about half-an-hour; my parents have been up since Six, I think. They're already dressed and out wandering Diagon Alley, I think. Dad's a bit fascinated by magic, although it scares Mum a little. I'm sorry…do you want to come in?"

"Yeah, sure," Ron nodded, entering the room and taking a seat at the small table near the window. He put Crookshanks' carrier on the table and looked with concern at his girlfriend, "You okay, 'Mione?"

"I'm fine, Ron," she said, rolling her eyes as she approached the pet carrier, "Did Crookshanks give you any trouble? I should really owl your Aunt Muriel and thank her for watching him for me."

"The cat was no trouble, 'Mione," Ron lied. He wore a long sleeve shirt today to hide the landscape of scratches that traveled his arms from wrist to elbow. Crookshanks did _not_ want to get into his pet carrier, "I just don't think he wanted to leave the Burrow."

"Why not?" Hermione asked as she opened the latch on the carrier. She reached inside but before she could grab him, Crookshanks shot out of the carrier in a blur of orange fur and proceeded to run about the room as fast as he could for several minutes before settling down on the bed nearest the door. Hermione laughed at his antics before sitting down next to him and petting her beloved cat.

"I think he enjoyed having stuff to chase and lots of space to run around," Ron said with a chuckle, "And having my bed to hog was a plus for him."

"He wasn't _that_ bad, was he?" Hermione asked with a smile, stroking Crookshanks' back lovingly.

"Nah, I think he just missed you," he smiled.

"Aww…did you miss your Mummy, Crookshanks?" she leaned over and planted a kiss on the cat's large head, nuzzling her face against his orange fur, "Mummy missed you…missed you sooo much."

"Listen, 'Mione," Ron cleared his throat, needing to get serious, "There's this dinner on Sunday…not just an ordinary Weasley dinner…the Minister's gonna be there. It's a real big deal…we think Dad might be getting a promotion."

"That's great, Ron," Hermione said with a smile, "Your Mum must be very excited."

"Yeah, she is," he nodded, "She's going all out to get the house in tip-top shape for Kingsley. Everyone's going to be there…even Charlie's coming in from Romania. Mum wants the whole family together for this."

"I'm sure you'll have a wonderful time," she said.

"Yeah, well, like I said…she wants the _whole_ family there," Ron looked her in the eye, "Including you."

"No! No-no-no-no-no-no-no!" Hermione exclaimed jumping up and moving to the other side of the room, "Ron, I can't! You _know_ that!! I cannot be around your mother after…after what she must think!! Ron she thinks I'm some sort of trollop!"

"She does _not_!" Ron yelled, jumping up and moving to her. He wrapped her up in his arms, holding her tight, "She _loves_ you! Remember…it was _me_ she blamed for corrupting _you_. She about beat me bloody with a wooden spoon!"

Hermione laughed at the image of Molly Weasley wielding a wooden cooking spoon as a weapon against her towering, thick-headed son.

"I don't know, Ron…"

"Come one, 'Mione…Percy's girlfriend will be there…George is even talking about bringing a date. You can't let me be the only one without a date except for Charlie! I'll have to sit next to _him_…and you've seen how he eats! He's worse than me!"

She chuckled again. The Weasley boys were ravenous eaters, and sometimes Charlie ate like the dragons he worked with in Romania.

"I'll have to think about it," she finally said, frowning.

Ron nodded, "Alright, I guess. Your parents are welcome, too, by the way. Mum's dying to see them, and Dad's hoping to finally find out how those airplanes stay up. And I owe your dad a game of wizard's chess."

"I'll tell them…_if_ I decide to come," she said finally.

"Alright, 'Mione," Ron said, hanging his head. He knew he couldn't force her, and he wasn't about to start a fight over it…not when he had to go to work. He leaned down to give her a kiss, and she turned to offer him her cheek. He sighed. This was far from over…he didn't have to be a genius to know that, "I'll see you later, Hermione."

"Bye, Ron."

Ron left _The Leaky Cauldron_ and headed out into Diagon Alley. Shops were just beginning to open up for the day, so it was starting to get crowded. Ron had just unlocked the door to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes when he heard someone call his name.

"Ron!!"

Ron looked over his shoulder and saw the smiling faces of John and Elizabeth Granger walking quickly towards him. Smiling, Ron turned and shook Mr. Granger's hand before Mrs. Granger embraced him and kissed his cheek.

"'Morning, Mr. and Mrs. Granger, enjoying your visit to Diagon Alley?" he asked politely.

"It's really quite unique," John said, smiling broadly, "We've merely been window shopping of course. I don't think Lizzie would let me buy anything magical."

"We've been through this before, John," Elizabeth said, rolling her eyes good-naturedly, "Hermione knows how to use magic…you don't."

"Is this _your_ shop, Ron?" Mr. Granger asked pretending to ignore his wife, "Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes?"

"Actually, it's my brother, George's shop," Ron said, opening the door and ushering them inside so that he could begin his workday, "He and Fred…they were twins…they opened this shop after they left Hogwarts a couple of years ago. I've been helping him get the shop back on its feet."

"That's very admirable, son," John said, clapping Ron on the shoulder. Mr. Granger took a look around the shop at the various items on display and even though he didn't know what most of them (if any of them) were, he could get a general sense from the bright colors and fun atmosphere of the shop, "So this is some sort of what…a joke shop?"

"Oh God no," Elizabeth said, grabbing her husband's arm and trying to tug him towards the door, "We are NOT buying any magical joke…_stuff_!"

Ron couldn't help but chuckle at the Grangers. They were such nice people…he couldn't help but like them. He got lucky; Hermione's parents could've been horrible people like the Muggles Harry had lived with.

"If you like, I could show you what some of the stuff does," Ron volunteered, smiling as Mrs. Granger shot him a dirty look.

"Ronald! You know you're making my job harder, right? You show him some of these things and John's going to pester me 'til St. Swithen's Day to let him get something."

"Honestly, Lizzie," John replied to his wife in a very stiff manner reminiscent of Hermione in _nag mode_, "You make it sound as if I'm a child. I'll have you know I'm a well-respected dentist, as well as the father of the smartest witch in the world."

Before Elizabeth could respond to her husband, a sudden _pop_ announced the arrival of the shop's proprietor.

"I love the smell of commerce in the morning," George exclaimed as he Apparated right behind the counter in front of the cashbox, "Smells like…Muggles!" George looked at the two potential customers and smiled his best Cheshire grin.

"How did you know we were Muggles?" Mr. Granger asked, intrigued.

"It's the clothes," George and Ron said simultaneously. Even though wizards and witches often wore Muggle-style clothing, there was something about _actual_ Muggle clothing that set it apart…it always looked so _manufactured_.

"I told you we should've bought some robes at that Madame Manakin's shop," John said to his wife, "That way we'd blend in."

"Madame Malkin's," Ron corrected him with a grin. So this is what it felt like to be Harry or Hermione when they corrected _him_ for mispronouncing the name of some Muggle thing or another.

"Thank you, Ron," Mr. Granger said, nodding to him, "Now everyone's got us pegged as Muggles, Lizzie."

"We are Muggles, John," she reminded him.

Ron stepped in before they went any further. They reminded him a lot of himself and Hermione, and if they were anything like them at all, and argument could soon commence.

"Mr. and Mrs. Granger, I'd like you to meet my brother, George. George these are Hermione's parents."

"Ickle Hermione's parents in my humble shop?" George exclaimed smiling even broader than before, "This _is_ a special occasion. We'll have to break out some free samples of our Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes products."

"There's really no need," Mrs. Weasley said nervously, moving towards the door, "We were just about to leave."

"Nonsense…have you had breakfast?" George replied, reaching underneath the counter and pulling out a tray of pastries, "How about a tasty sweet treat! Canary Crème anybody?"

"NO!!"

* * *

**Author's End Notes:** Another cliffhanger. Oh no!! Hehehe! I'll get to work on Ch. 26 tonight, and with luck it'll be up tomorrow. I hope everyone in the U.S. had a nice Labor Day...now...get back out there and labor some more people!!


	26. Guess Who's Coming to Dinner

**Author's Notes:** I'm noticing that the story is moving slower than I thought. Originally, I never expected to go past 20 chapters, now it seems I'll be lucky to bring this in under 30 chapters. The reason for the slow pace is the daiy posting. As I'm writing a chapter, I try to bring it in between 4500 and 6000 words (although many of my other chapters were significantly shorter) so that I can give enough story, but still get a chapter posted each day.

This chapter, as indicated by the title, is the beginning of the Weasleys' dinner with Kingsley Shacklebolt...which will continue next chapter, so pretty soon the question as to what it is that he wants will be answered!!

I love my reviewers! I love each and every one of them (although I love the girls just a bit more than the guys!): **Edinburgh Love**, **Ann Malfoy**, **Cantletharrygo**, **CutewithAcapital-Q**, **fatyellowrat**, **Avanell**, **Dizzy0305**, **katie1985**, **Elytha**, **Trude**, **mugglemama**, **emmy1124**, **Emma.Jane-HPfan**, **Moony3005**, **IsI Wisi**, **Lady Anja**, **embergrl9010**, **the written princess**, **MissFinnegan**, **Tiffany M**, **kareem33**, **randomguy1517**, **Shlesha**, **ronniemione**,** sarah-keyko**, **not for lack of trying**, **Emm04**, **Jacob's-One-Girl**, **Ravenhaired2**, and **Nosta82**, **Aly-Cat 101**, **EnglishGirlVerity**,** marauders rox**, **Lane Joey**, **allenterrill**, **skippyboo**, **Larelles**, **kellymc1**, **xxafterglowxx**, and **screamxheart**. They are truly incredible!

"Aftermath" is rated M for language and naughty stuff.

**Disclaimer: **J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter and all the associated whatnots.

* * *

**"Aftermath"**

**Chapter 26 -- Guess Who's Coming to Dinner**

"NO!!"

Ron lunged at John Granger and the Canary Crème in his hand, but before he could stop Hermione's father from taking a bite, he bit down into the delicious-looking pastry.

"Mmm…this is SQUAWK!!"

John Granger disappeared and was replaced by a giant, yellow-feathered bird. It began flapping about the shop, bumping into things and knocking stuff over. George was doubled over with laughter, while Mrs. Granger was screaming in fright. Ron grabbed her and tried to calm her down.

"It's temporary!!" Ron yelled, shaking her, "Look at me Mrs. Granger…calm down! Mr. Granger will change back in a few minutes. He's going to be alright."

"Ronald…what _are_ those?" she asked, looking at the pastries on the counter.

"Those are Canary Crèmes," Ron explained, "They're one of the twins' inventions. You eat one and turn into a big canary…but it's only for a few minutes. Eventually it wears --…"

_Crash!_

Before Ron could finish his statement, a loud _crash_ from the back of the shop cut him off and drew everyone's attention. The man-sized canary was gone, and Mr. Granger had returned, buried under a display case full of Weasleys products. Ron rushed over to Mr. Granger's aid, but before he could reach him, Hermione's father jumped to his feet with an excited look on his face.

"That was BRILLIANT!!" John yelled as he climbed over the boxes piled around him, "Lizzie, love, we have got to get some of those for our next dinner party!"

"John!" Elizabeth called exasperatedly, "We are _not_ turning our friends into giant canaries!"

"Ronnie," George laughed walking up next to his brother and draping an arm across his shoulders, "I'm really liking Hermione's dad! You need to marry that girl so we can get him in the family!"

"Sod off, George," Ron snapped, although deep down he thought it _was_ pretty funny, "He could've been hurt."

"Nonsense, Ron, I'm fine!" Mr. Granger said, smiling as he approached the two brothers with Mrs. Granger at his side, doting on him, "Lizzie, honestly, I'm fine!"

"Well then, Dr. Granger, since everyone's still alive and everything," George said, clapping a hand on Dr. Granger's shoulder, "Shall we set you up with a complete line of our premium products? At the family discount, of course!"

"I appreciate that, George, but I don't think the Missus would be very happy with me if I did that," Mr. Granger said, waving off George's offer, "Besides, I couldn't accept a discount…we're not family."

"Not _yet_!" George said with a wink, nudging Ron in the ribs, "Right, Ronnie?"

"Knock it off, George," Ron groaned, "I'm sure the Grangers need to get back to _The Leaky Cauldron_."

"Ronald's right, John," Elizabeth said, looking at her watch, "Percy will be picking us up at Ten O'clock, so we'd better return to the inn and get ready."

"Alright, Liz," John sighed.

"But…before we go," Elizabeth rolled her eyes and sighed, "You may buy _one_ of these Wizard Wheezes."

"HA! Brilliant! Lizzie, love, you're a gem!!"

Laughter filled the shop as Mr. Granger rushed about like a child in a toy store trying to decide which of the amazing Weasleys products he would be buying, and although he, too, derived some amusement from Mr. Granger's antics, Ron couldn't help but feel as if this was going to come back and haunt him.

_"Hermione's gonna _kill_ me!"_

* * *

When Harry got up that morning, he expected a busy day full of final arrangements for the special dinner the Weasleys were having at the Burrow the very next day. He wasn't expecting to be ambushed by the last of Ginny's brothers.

"Harry…hey, Harry…wake up!"

Harry's eyes creaked open and he found himself staring up at a blurry shape with a shock of orange hair atop its head. Obviously one of the Weasleys, although without his glasses on, he couldn't see which one it was.

"Wha…huh?" Harry sat up groggily and put his glasses on, making the orange-topped blur come into focus, "Charlie…? What're you doing?"

"Mum wants you to get dressed and come outside and help me get the garden ready for tomorrow," the second oldest Weasley child said with a smile, "Hurry up, mate! I'll be out back waiting for you."

Charlie turned on his heel and left the attic bedroom so the Boy-Who-Lived could become the Boy-Who-Got-Dressed. Harry dragged himself out of bed and slowly got dressed. He loved Mrs. Weasley to death – she was the only mother he'd ever really known – but if he had to de-gnome the garden one more time, he was going to beg the Dursleys to let him move back in.

"Well, maybe not," Harry grinned as he headed downstairs and out into the garden.

"Oy, Harry! Over here!!" Charlie yelled from across the garden. He was standing near the trees that enclosed the Weasleys' makeshift Quidditch pitch.

Harry hurried over, "What're we doing over here, Charlie?" Harry asked as the Weasley brother led him through the trees and onto the pitch, "I thought we were going to de-gnome the garden."

"Not right now, this is more important. Sit," Charlie pointed to a chair that was sitting in the middle of the pitch near some sort of easel with large, poster-sized placards on it.

"Charlie…what is all this?" Harry asked, confused.

"Sit!" Charlie snapped, causing Harry to jump at the sudden harsh authority in his voice.

Not knowing what else to do, Harry sat down. It was only as he realized that he was out of earshot of the house (and the rest of the Weasleys) in the secluded grove that Harry understood what was going on. Ginny's final brother was going to have his say about what happened last week.

"Bill owled me about what you did with Ginny, Harry," Charlie said, his voice cold and completely unlike what Harry was used to. He was walking a slow circle around the chair in which Harry was sitting, "Needless to say I was _not_ happy."

"Charlie, I --…"

"Shut it, Harry!" the redheaded man snapped, "You will be given a chance to speak when we're done here. Right now, I want you to _listen_."

Harry nodded stiffly. His head was still a little fuzzy from sleep, but this situation was quickly waking him up.

"My sister is not some cheap slag, Harry," Charlie growled, "She's not here for you to get a leg over and get your rocks off. If that's what you're looking for, there's a place for that in Knockturn Alley."

Charlie slowly strode over to the easel standing in front of Harry and grabbed the blank, white placard displayed there.

"When Ron was thirteen, Dad asked me and Bill to have the Sex Talk with him. Bill handled the lecture, while I brought these diagrams…to show Ron how to do things right," Charlie moved the white placard and revealed a poster-sized diagram of two people having sex. Being that these were magical diagrams, the people moved as if in the actual act of having sex, "However, right now these diagrams are being used to show _you_, Harry, what sort of things will get your arse kicked if I ever learn that you even _thought_ about doing them with Ginny."

Charlie went from placard to placard, showing the people in various sexual positions, naming each of the positions, and explaining just how dead Harry would be if he tried that position on Ginny. Harry realized just how evil Charlie Weasley was. Showing him those diagrams, no matter how uncomfortable it was, _did_ put ideas in Harry's head…and those very ideas would ensure that Harry would find himself on the business end of a Weasley beating.

When the lecture was over, Charlie took out his wand, and with a quick wave, the chair, easel, and placards vanished back to wherever they'd been conjured from in the first place. Smiling at Harry, Charlie put an arm over his shoulder and started walking with him back to the Burrow.

"I hope that wasn't too painful for you, Harry," Charlie said with his usual ready grin, "You must think I'm a bit barmy, showing you those pictures and then expecting you _not_ to think about them."

"A bit, yeah," Harry agreed, chuckling.

"So you _are_ thinking about that stuff?" the redhead asked, looking sidelong at Harry.

"Well, yeah, I mean…_you_ put the ideas in my head."

Harry never saw the punch coming. Charlie Weasley whirled on the Boy-Who-Lived and slammed a hard, calloused fist into his face, sending him sprawling onto the ground, glasses broken and nose bloodied.

"But _you_ put those ideas in my head!!" Harry yelled, looking up at the out-of-focus Charlie Weasley as he looked down at him.

"Oh…that? You were going to get hit anyway, Harry," Charlie said, smiling, "I just want you thinking now, _'If I do this, will Charlie show up and kick my arse?'_ because if it's doing something in those diagrams with Ginny, the answer is _'Yes, he will!'_"

With that, Charlie turned and made his way back inside the Burrow, leaving Harry behind.

* * *

When the workday ended, and Hermione had not shown up at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, Ron figured he might just be off the hook. After all, it wasn't _his_ fault that her father bought something from the shop. And _George_ was the one who turned her dad into a canary. Still, Ron knew _he _would get blamed. That's how these things work.

"They always blame the boyfriend," Ron mumbled to himself as he left the shop and prepared to Apparate home.

Once there, Ron found the Burrow to be a bustling hive of activity. Mrs. Weasley was hurrying here and there getting all the final touches ready for tomorrow's dinner with the Minister. Ron was about to run upstairs to change out of his work-robes, when his mother grabbed him.

"Oh no you don't!" Mrs. Weasley yelled, "No use getting yourself cleaned up, just to get dirty again!! There's some old Muggle appliances of your father's that have been laying around far too long! Move them out into the shed…and when you're done come in for supper."

"Yes, Mum," Ron sighed, rolling his eyes.

When he got out into the garden, Ron found a huge pile of Muggle items piled up against the house. Ron had no idea where his father had had them all stashed, but wherever his hiding place was, his mother must have found it. Ron had no idea what most of these things were, although he'd seen some at the Grangers' house in Australia. Taking the smaller appliances first, Ron began moving the mass of shiny metal, glass, and plastic piece-by-piece out to the dilapidated shed where his father's other Muggle artifacts were stashed.

It was well past an hour later when Ron managed to drag himself back inside the Burrow for supper. He'd since abandoned his work-robes as he'd been sweating too much in them, and was left in the jeans and long-sleeve t-shirt he'd worn underneath…both of which were covered in dust, dirt, and grime of some undisclosed sort.

As he dropped heavily into a chair at the table, behind a plate of food already waiting for him, Ron found himself alone in the kitchen save for his mother who was currently washing the dinner dishes.

"Did you get it all tucked away then, dear?" Molly asked, gazing over her shoulder at her sweaty and dirty son.

"Yeff, Muh" Ron said around a mouthful of roast potatoes.

"Thank you, Ronald," Mrs. Weasley said, not bothering to correct her son's table manners…she could see he was tired, "I don't know where your father finds all that…rubbish…but he insists on bringing it home."

Ron chuckled as he swallowed his potatoes and took a bite of his pork chops, "Foof'f guh, Muh!"

"Thank you, dear," she rolled her eyes, "I do hope you'll use better manners in front of the Minister tomorrow."

Ron swallowed his bite of pork, having barely chewed it, "Aw, c'mon, Mum…it's just Kingsley Shacklebolt! He's seen me eat before. What's with trying to impress him?"

"Ronald Weasley, he's the Minister for Magic now!" Mrs. Weasley scolded him, doing her best unintentional mother hen impersonation, "He deserves our respect, and he _will_ have it…or _you_ will go hungry!"

"So you'd be going out of your way like this if bloody Mundungus Fletcher was made Minister?" Ron scoffed, shoving a forkful of green beans in his mouth.

His mother turned purple and rounded on her son with a large, wooden cooking spoon.

_Whack!_

"OWW!" Ron yelled, spitting out the beans and grabbing the back of his head where she'd hit him, "Bloody Hell, Mum! What was that for?!"

"_If_ that horrible little criminal had been made Minister, then yes! We'd show Mundungus Fletcher the same respect we're going to show Kingsley!" Molly yelled, "Now…mind your language and finish your dinner!"

"Yes, Mum," Ron replied, crestfallen.

His mother moved up behind him and kissed the spot where she'd hit him the spoon, "I'm sorry, Ronald, dear. Now, you _did_ tell Hermione about the dinner tomorrow, didn't you…and for her to invite her parents?"

"Yeah, Mum," Ron nodded between bites, "But I don't think she's gonna come."

"What? That's silly…why wouldn't she…oh, Ron! You didn't get into another argument, did you?" she asked, clucking her tongue at her youngest, most tactless son.

"No! This was _not_ my fault, Mum!" he exclaimed, defending himself, "Ginny told her about what happened last week. Hermione got upset and embarrassed and she says she can't face you anymore."

"Ronald Bilius Weasley," Molly shouted, having picked up a cooking pot this time, "You get that dear girl and her parents to come to this dinner tomorrow, or it will be a long time before _you_ taste any of _my _cooking again!!"

"Yes, Mum!" Ron said, jumping up as he saw the heavy metal pot in her hand.

"Now go!"

"Yes, Mum!!" Ron rushed out of the kitchen, fearing for his life as he stormed up the steps to his attic bedroom.

Bursting through the door into his Chudley Cannons-dominated bedroom, Ron tossed his work-robes onto his bed, and sat down at the rickety old desk in the corner. Taking out a wrinkled old piece of parchment he quickly (and messily) began to scribe a letter to Hermione.

_Dear 'Mione,_

_Please-please-please-please-please-please-PLEASE come to dinner tomorrow! Mum is on a rampage! I swear, if you don't come, she's going to kill me…or worse…stop feeding me!_

_She wants you at the dinner. We all do. Especially me!! Please come to dinner, love, and bring your parents!_

_Please…for your ickle boyfriend?_

_Love,_

_Ron_

Once he finished the letter, Ron hurried across the room, grabbed Pig out of his cage and quickly tied the note to his foot. Ron moved to the window and tossed the owl out into the night.

"Take that to 'Mione, and hurry!!"

With his letter to Hermione winging its way to her, Ron grabbed his pajamas and decided to take a much-needed shower while he waited for the response. When he finished with the shower, Ron found that Pig hadn't returned yet, but Harry was now in the room…and sporting quite the black eye.

"What happened to you?" Ron asked, plopping down onto his bed and looking across the room at his friend.

"Charlie hit me," Harry said sounding very surly.

"Good!" Ron laughed, "Now I don't _have_ to!"

"Ha-ha," Harry laughed sarcastically, "You think I deserved this, huh?"

"A bit, yeah," Ron said, smiling.

"Some friend you are," Harry grumbled, getting up to leave the room.

"Oh, grow up, Harry," Ron snapped, "You're dating the only girl in a family full of boys…take your licks and be happy! Things could've been a lot worse!"

"Oh yeah," Harry asked, snidely, angry at Ron for enjoying his pain too much, "How so?"

"I thought for sure Charlie was gonna sic a dragon on you!"

* * *

It was after midnight when Ron, lying in bed asleep, was smacked in the face by something small and feathery that proceeded to flap about manically until Ron groggily captured it in a vise-like grip born of his time playing Keeper on his House Quidditch team.

"Bloody bird!" the redhead grumbled, "Calm down!"

Ron grabbed the letter off the owl's leg and let him go. Pig flew rapidly around the room three times before settling back onto his perch in his cage. Using his wand to ignite the lamp beside his bed, Ron rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and began reading Hermione's response to his letter.

_Ron,_

_I'm sorry. I really can't face your family right now…especially your mother._

_Hermione_

Ron sighed as he read the letter, running a frustrated hand through his thick red hair. Tomorrow was _not_ going to be a good day.

* * *

As Sunday dawned, did his best to convince Hermione to come. Pig was flying back and forth between the Burrow and the Grangers' house so frequently that by the time dinner started, the poor bird was exhausted to the point of _lying_ in its cage instead of sitting on its perch.

Ron tried flattery to get her to come (_"Dinner will be meaningless without the most beautiful and smartest witch of this or any other age in attendance."_), begging (_"Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease?"_), bribery (_"I'll do ANYTHING if you come…I'll even read _Hogwarts, A History_!"_), guilt (_"After everything I did to help your parents last week, you won't come to ONE dinner with my family?"_), and when that all failed, he resorted to a tried and true method of getting a response from her – starting a row (_"Do you know how CHILDISH you're being? And you call ME immature!!"_).

None of it seemed to work, however, and soon Ron, dressed in the nicest clothes he had this side of his dress robes, made his way downstairs to break the bad news to his mother. He found her, of course, in the kitchen.

"Bad news, Mum," Ron said somberly, "'Mione just won't come."

"Ronald! Do you know how important tonight is?" she asked, glaring at him, "I wanted everything to be perfect. I wanted the whole family here!"

"I wanted her here, too, Mum, but she won't come!" Ron was exasperated. This was all Harry and Ginny's fault, but he knew it was going to be turned around and _he_ was going to be blamed.

"You've ruined the dinner for me, Ronald Weasley," Molly said, proving her son right, "I hope you're happy."

"Actually, Mum," Ron began, his face getting red, "My girlfriend is barely talking to me right now, I've never seen where she lives and her Muggle house isn't Floo connected, so I can't go see her, and _I'm_ being blamed for her not wanting to be around the woman who called her a _scarlet woman_ behind her back! So I'm pretty BLOODY MISERABLE…but thanks for askin'!"

Before his mother could yell at him some more, or possibly crack him upside the head with a handy spoon or frying pan, Ron retreated from the kitchen, heading out the back door into the garden where the table had been set up, as usual, for Sunday supper. This time, however, a golden throne-like chair sat at the head of the table next to a beaming George.

"What do you think, Ronnie?" George asked, waving his hand at the throne, "I transfigured one of the old chairs. Think his Ministerness will like it?"

"Does it blow up or something when he sits in it?" Ron grumbled. Even George was going overboard for Kingsley's visit.

"Ronnie!" George gasped, feigning shock, but unable to hide the smile on his face, "Would I do something like that? It's a good idea though…nice to see you're thinking in a Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes kind of style. There may be hope for you yet!"

"Where is everybody?" the youngest Weasley son asked, taking a seat in one of the normal chairs.

"Bill and Fleur haven't arrived yet – I suspect half-Veela women take forever to get ready," George said with a smirk as he counted off on his fingers where the rest of the family were, "Ginny and Harry went for a walk, Charlie went to keep an eye on them, Dad's in the shed showing Audrey some of his Muggle artifacts while Percy clucks his tongue at him, we're here, Mum's inside, and…where's Hermione?"

"She's not coming," Ron sighed, running frustrated fingers through his hair. It was a habit he shared with his father, and he couldn't help wondering if it in some way contributed to his father's hair-loss.

"Don't tell me you two are fighting again," George sighed, taking a seat across from Ron.

"Honestly, I don't know if we are," Ron said, shaking his head, "At least, I don't know if she's mad at me or not. Ever since Ginny and Harry told her about _last_ Sunday, with Mum and all the yelling, she says she's too embarrassed to come around…especially if she might bump into Mum."

"Oh," George nodded, understanding how Hermione might feel. That was a bad situation to be in, "Look on the bright side, Ronnie…at least it's happening to you and not me!!"

"Thanks, George."

The door to the shed opened, and Percy shuffled out, cleaning dust off of his glasses. He was closely followed by his girlfriend Audrey, and Mr. Weasley bringing up the rear.

"I just don't understand your obsession, Father," Percy was saying as he was, now, brushing dust off his Muggle-style suit. It was navy blue with pinstripes, so the dust showed up rather well, "None of those Muggle appliances even work properly without electricity, so what's the purpose of hording them like that?"

"I know it's not very dignified, son," Mr. Weasley sighed, trying not to roll his eyes at Percy, "But I do so enjoy learning about Muggle devices…it's a whole other world out there that we really know nothing about."

"Stop being such a fuddy-duddy, Percy," Audrey scolded as they neared the table, "I think it's a wonderful collection, Mr. Weasley…all those shiny metal objects…who wouldn't be fascinated by what they might do? Besides, Percy, no one criticizes you for your collection of porcelain elephants."

"But we will NOW!" George yelled with glee overhearing Audrey's comment.

"Thank you _so_ much, Audrey," Percy sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Oops. Sorry, Percy," Audrey replied with a giggle, "I didn't mean to let the cat out of the bag."

"That's quite alright, dear girl," Arthur said, patting her on the arm, "Percy's missed out on a good bit of brotherly teasing these last couple of years. I'm sure he misses George's good-natures jests."

"_Good-natured_," Percy repeated, "That's an interesting way to describe it, Father."

"Oh now, Percy, don't get your trunk in a twist!" George joked, moving over to his brother and throwing an arm around him, "We won't be teasing you about this, will we Ronnie?"

"Not much," Ron said, smiling.

"Not today," George added with glee.

"Maybe later," George and Ron said together, bursting out laughing.

Mr. Weasley and Audrey couldn't help laughing along with them, and only Percy had a sour look on his face. They all took seats at the table and broke out into friendly conversation…mostly speculation over what Minister Shacklebolt might be wanting…which is exactly how Bill and Fleur found them when they arrived.

"I do not see what zee beeg deal ees, Beel," Fleur said in a haughty voice as they came out the backdoor into the garden, "Just because she ees your seestaire does not mean she should be forbidden from enjoyeeng herself. After all we did not wait unteel marriage!"

"Shh!" Bill snapped as he caught sight of his family at the table, "This isn't the time or place for this discussion, Fleur."

"Well, Beel, zere weel be a deescussion, and you weel see my side of zee argument or _you_ weel not be 'aving any enjoyment eezaire!"

The two newcomers took seats at the table, and soon joined into the conversation. Everyone was talking about Kingsley Shacklebolt except for Ron. He couldn't give a damn about Shacklebolt and his visit. He had too much on his mind.

Chief among his thoughts was Hermione and her recent coldness to him whenever he saw her. It was if she felt too ashamed to even let him kiss her anymore. And, of course, that was _all_ Ginny and Harry's fault! If they had kept their mouths shut, Hermione wouldn't be doing this. He really wanted to make their lives miserable because of it. As he thought this, a very disgruntled-looking Harry and Ginny came walking around the side of the house with a smug-looking Charlie hot on their heels.

_"Wow!"_ Ron thought, smiling, _"I think it, and it happens. Maybe if I thought about a million galleons…or a championship season for the Cannons!"_ Ron began thinking those exact thoughts, but when a pile of gold didn't drop in his lap he figured it was a lost cause.

"Hello, baby brother," Charlie said as he ruffled Ron's hair before sitting next to him, "Where's Hermione?"

"She's not coming," Ron grumbled, crossing his arms and shooting a dirty look at Harry.

"You two aren't fighting again, are you?" Charlie laughed, slapping Ron on the back, "What did you do this time?"

"I didn't do anything," Ron growled.

"Sure you didn't, Ronnie," Charlie laughed, nudging him roughly, "And Harry walked into a door earlier."

_Crack!_

All discussion ceased at the sound of someone Apparating into the garden. Everyone looked up to see the broad-shouldered, dark-skinned form of the new Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"Kingsley!" Arthur jumped up and moved over to shake the new arrival's hand.

Percy, too, jumped up, fidgeting with his suit to make sure he was presentable causing everyone at the table…including Audrey (although she did it slightly less than the others)…to roll their eyes. He stood at attention by his chair, and when he drew a quick glance from Kingsley, Percy nodded stiffly, "Good evening, Minister."

Shacklebolt nodded back before turning his attention back to Arthur Weasley. Arthur escorted him over to the table and the throne-like seat George had transfigured for him.

"This was unnecessary, Arthur," Kingsley said, indicating the throne, "I don't need anything so extravagant."

"Ah, well, my son George did this, Kingsley," Arthur explained, "And he _was_ rather proud…"

"Well, I suppose I can allow it," the Minister said with smile, nodding towards George who grinned back at him, "Just for tonight."

"Dinner!" Molly called as she walked out of the house with various bowls and platters floating behind her, "Ah! Minister Shacklebolt…you're just in time! Everyone take a seat and let's tuck in so the Minister can tell us why we deserve the pleasure of his company tonight."

Arthur moved to help Molly put the food on the table, while Kingsley took a seat on the throne. George nudged Ron and tried to get him to watch the Minister. As soon as the Minister sat down, a loud obnoxious noise blasted out of the seat causing George to burst out laughing.

_FRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTT!!_

"GEORGE!!"

* * *

**Author's End Notes:** Oh, that George!! So, what will Kingsley want with the Weasleys? Tune in NEXT chapter!! Which I hope is up tomorrow. I haven't written it yet.


	27. Dinner with the Weasleys

**Author's Notes:** Okay, so here's Chapter 27. I'm not very happy with it...maybe because so much was going on, I felt like I was being pulled off in so many different directions. But, a lot of stuff was solved and explained this chapter, so story-wise it was necessary. Hopefully it wasn't too bad...but as I've said before, I'm a poor judge of my own work.

These are my reviewers: **Edinburgh Love**, **Ann Malfoy**, **Cantletharrygo**, **CutewithAcapital-Q**, **fatyellowrat**, **Avanell**, **Dizzy0305**, **katie1985**, **Elytha**, **Trude**, **mugglemama**, **emmy1124**, **Emma.Jane-HPfan**, **Moony3005**, **IsI Wisi**, **Lady Anja**, **embergrl9010**, **the written princess**, **MissFinnegan**, **Tiffany M**, **kareem33**, **randomguy1517**, **Shlesha**, **ronniemione**,** sarah-keyko**, **not for lack of trying**, **Emm04**, **Jacob's-One-Girl**, **Ravenhaired2**, and **Nosta82**, **Aly-Cat 101**, **EnglishGirlVerity**,** marauders rox**, **Lane Joey**, **allenterrill**, **skippyboo**, **Larelles**, **kellymc1**, **xxafterglowxx**, **screamxheart**, and **zsdvnn**. They are amazing people, so if you ever encounter them, treat 'em right!!

Rated M for language and naughty stuff.

**Disclaimer:** JKR's stuff...not mine.

* * *

**"Aftermath"**

**Chapter 27 -- Dinner with the Weasleys**

"GEORGE!!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked at the rude noise coming from the cushion of Kingsley's chair, "How could you! I am positively mortified! You've embarrassed the Minister!! Look!"

Kingsley did, indeed, have a slightly embarrassed look on his face, but he tried his best to laugh it off, "It's alright, Molly," the Minister said, trying to mollify her, "I should have known better when Arthur told me George had transfigured the chair."

Kingsley produced his wand from the sleeve of his robe and quickly transfigured the prank-cushioned throne back into one of the Weasleys' ordinary kitchen chairs. George frowned at the ending of his prank, while many of the others assembled at the table chuckled at the situation.

"That was very childish, George," Percy said, chiding his younger brother, "The Minister is an important man and he doesn't have time for your brand of tomfoolery."

"Then whose brand of tomfoolery _does_ he have time for?" George asked with a grin. Mrs. Weasley, passing by George to place some of the food on the table took the opportunity to smack her jokester son in the back of the head.

"Behave, George!" she snapped moving over to sit next to her husband near Kingsley.

Once the commotion died down, everyone started to eat. It was a typically wonderful Molly Weasley meal and everyone was enjoying it…except Ron. Each and every time Ron would reach for something to eat, Charlie or George would slap his hands. They had been instructed not to let him eat a single thing.

"Mum…come on!" Ron called down the table to his mother, "Don't you think this is a bit ridiculous? You're gonna make your own son starve?"

"You're being punished, Ronald," Molly said curtly, "Now stop your whinging so everyone else can enjoy their meal."

"Can I at least be excused, then?" he asked bitterly. Sitting in front of all that food and not being able to touch any of it was sheer torture.

"This is a _family_ dinner, Ronald, and I want the _whole_ family here."

"Oh, she's cruel," George sniggered as took a big bite of roast beef, "Mmmm…Mum, this roast beef is de-LISH-ous! I don't think it's ever been _this_ good!! It's like…my entire mouth is _alive_ with the succulent flavor of this scrumptious roast! Mm-mm-mm-mm-mmmmm!"

Ron glared at his brother. He was being such a prat, and enjoying Ron's punishment way too much. He cast a glance over at Harry and Ginny and they, too, were enjoying a laugh at Ron's expense. This caused Ron to scowl at his best friend and sister. This was _their_ fault.

Ron's self-pity was interrupted by his father asking Kingsley Shacklebolt the question that was on everybody's mind.

"So, Kingsley, if you don't mind getting to the point of this meaning," Arthur said, looking expectantly at the Minister, "I'm sure we're all kind of anxious to find out what's going on."

There was a murmur of agreement from around the table and everyone stopped eating to direct their attention to the man at the head of the table. Kingsley smiled, first at Arthur and then at the rest of the assembled Weasleys.

"No beating around the bush, eh Arthur?" Kingsley chuckled, "Well, my reasons are two-fold…and the first involves Harry Potter."

"What? Me?" Harry said shocked, "What do you need with me, Minister?"

"I think you've earned the right to call me Kingsley, Harry," the Minister said with a smile, "Especially when we're not in public."

Harry smiled shyly, "Alright…Kingsley…what is this about?"

"Minerva McGonagall informed me of your desire, in the past, to become an Auror once you finished school," Shacklebolt looked at Harry, his hands together, his fingers steepled, "Is that correct?"

"Err…well…yeah…in the past," Harry said a little nervously, "But I haven't taken the N.E.W.T.s."

"What would you say if I offered you a spot in the Auror Corps _tonight_, without having to sit your N.E.W.T.s?"

"Harry! That would be wonderful!" Ginny said excitedly, putting her hand over his, "You've wanted to be an Auror since your Fourth Year at Hogwarts!"

"Err…well…I don't know, Kingsley," Harry hedged, "I mean…yeah, it's a generous and tempting offer…"

"But?" the Minister quirked an eyebrow at him.

"It doesn't seem fair to the people who had to go through the whole process," Harry said, "For me to jump to the head of the line."

"You'll still have to complete the training regimen required for all new Auror recruits," Kingsley said, trying to allay Harry's doubts, "If you fail to complete the training, you don't make it into the Corps. However, something tells me you're going to pass with flying colors."

"Harry…you should do this," Ginny said, softly, looking deep into his eyes.

"You think so, Gin?"

She nodded and smiled. Harry nodded back at her and turned to Minister Shacklebolt.

"Alright, Kingsley, I'll do it!"

"Welcome to Auror Training, Harry," Kingsley smiled. He stood up and extended his hand and Harry jumped to his feet and shook it.

Suddenly everyone it seemed was on their feet, rushing to congratulate Harry; everyone except Ron. He sat scowling as he watched Harry once again becoming the center of attention as he was _once again_ just handed something on a silver platter that Ron would have to work extremely hard to achieve. Ron had thought the jealousy he felt towards his friend had disappeared after Fourth Year. But there was more to this…this wasn't just jealousy.

Ron resented Harry. Here was Harry, enjoying the adulation of the entire Weasley clan, the love of his life kissing him sweetly on the cheek, while the love of _Ron's_ life was off virtually hiding because of her embarrassment…an embarrassment _caused_ by Harry in the first place. It wasn't fair that Harry was celebrated. He deserved to be embarrassed as well. Harry deserved to feel as if he, too, couldn't look the Weasleys in the eye…just as Hermione did.

Ron wasn't exactly sure why he chose _that_ particular spell. Something poetically justified, perhaps, in that every one of the Weasleys in the kitchen last Sunday had seen Hermione's private underthings waved about as if some starting flag for a championship broom race. Of course, Harry wore boxer shorts, so having his underwear shown off to everyone wouldn't be completely embarrassing…but if he were completely pantsed…if he were bare-arsed in front of everyone…including the bloody Minister for Magic…_that_ would be embarrassing.

Getting his wand out of his back pocket, Ron silently cast the Severing Charm on Harry's pants and waited for the mayhem to ensue. However, a voice coming from the backdoor of the Burrow quickly distracted him before he could see the end result of what he would eventually admit was a prank that was way out of line.

"Uhm…hello? I'm sorry we're late…I hope the invitation to dinner was still open."

Ron's head snapped around at the nervous-sounding voice he knew better than any other. He jumped to his feet and rushed towards the house.

"'Mione you came!" Ron exclaimed he was about to throw his arms around her, but she held a covered platter in her hand.

"Yes, Ronald," she said, shooting him a look that may have been angry or may have just been nervous, "And we brought cake."

Ron looked over Hermione's shoulder, where Mr. and Mrs. Granger were standing in the doorway, looking at the garden of the Burrow, taking in its simple majesty. It may have not been the wealthiest home in wizarding Britain, but it was beautiful nonetheless, a beauty that lay in its comfort and simple homey nature. It was their first time at the Burrow, but the aura of the place filled them, and they felt immediately welcomed and comfortable.

"Mr. and Mrs. Granger, it's great to see you ag—AHH!!" Ron's sentence was cut off by Mrs. Weasley walking up behind him and smacking him in the back of the head again.

"Ronald! You told me the Grangers weren't coming!" Mrs. Weasley snapped, hurrying up to great the newcomers, "I'm so sorry…John, Elizabeth, it's wonderful to see you again. It's been so long! We would have held dinner, but _Ronald_ told me you weren't coming."

"We weren't," Hermione said, cutting in, her chin held high, "But I received an owl at the last minute that changed my mind."

"Uh oh," Ron said, realizing he was in trouble. He remembered what that last letter had said…he was trying to bait her into an argument, "'Mione…"

"After dinner, Ronald," she told him, handing him the cake, "You and I will _discuss_ that letter."

"Uhm…okay," Ron replied sheepishly. He noticed his mother approaching and he held up the platter Hermione had brought, "Look Mum, the Grangers brought cake!"

"That's wonderful, Ronald. Go put it in the house," he walked past him and stepped up to Hermione, "Hermione, dear, I was hoping that you and I could have a talk later."

Hermione blushed and the stiffness with which she had been speaking faded, and she practically squeaked, "Uh…about…what?"

Molly took her into a comforting, motherly hug, "I owe you several apologies, dear, and I pray you'll accept them."

"Of…of course I will, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said, completely caught off-guard.

"Good, now, let's get you and your parents seated so you can eat."

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said, blushing, "I hope we're not too much trouble."

"Tut-tut, dear," Molly said, patting the girl on the hand, "Think nothing of it. You're family after all."

"Did we miss anything?" Hermione asked as she and her parents were escorted to the table, three new chairs were conjured, and space was made for the late arrivals, "Everyone seemed rather excited about something when we arrived."

"That was because of Harry," Ginny said, sitting next to Hermione and giving her a hug, "Kingsley…err…Minister Shacklebolt just gave Harry a spot in the Auror training program even without taking the N.E.W.T.s!"

"That's wonderful. Harry must be so excited."

"He's talking to the Minister now," Ginny said, pointing to where Harry and Kingsley stood a few yards away talking.

While dinner was restarted after the newcomers' arrival, introductions were made. Although the Grangers had met a few of the Weasleys, there were still many they didn't know. Ron had returned from placing the cake in the kitchen and had tried to get Hermione to sit next to him, but she insisted he continue to sit between his two brothers. He sighed sullenly, but at least he was now allowed to eat.

Kingsley and Harry had finished their conversation, shook hands, and made their way back to the table. However, as Harry walked towards his empty seat on the other side of Ginny, something odd happened. His pants began to fall and before he could react, they…and his boxers…had dropped around his ankles.

Ron closed his eyes and smacked himself in the forehead. His earlier animosity towards Harry had disappeared with the arrival of Hermione, and now he was deeply regretting the vicious prank he had played on his best friend.

He planned to apologize later, when sudden screams from the ladies at the table, cries of shock and dismay from the men present, and a loud cackling laughter from George made Ron quickly open his eyes to see what was going on. There, stood Harry Potter, eyes wide in fear as he looked at the assembled Weasleys and Grangers, with his pants around his ankles, and a great lot of nothing where his bits should be.

"Bloody Hell…" Ron gasped, fighting back the urge to vomit. He looked across the table where Hermione sat gaping in shock at Harry, and he quickly lunged across the table, scattering food everywhere to cover her eyes, "Don't look, 'Mione!"

He had the feeling that, ordinarily, Hermione Granger would get up-in-arms at his presumption to cover her eyes and protect her from a sight that was, supposedly, too hideous to see. However, she merely clamped her own hands on top of his and held tighter, ensuring she wouldn't see any more of what she'd already seen.

Mrs. Granger and Mrs. Weasley fainted. Luckily, they had both been sitting at the time, and their husbands were able to grab them and keep them from falling out of their chairs. Mr. Granger was understandably repulsed and confused by what was going on. Mr. Weasley was shooting a rather knowing, disapproving look at George.

Bill looked away from Harry, wincing and unconsciously reaching down to ensure that his own bits were still safe and sound where he'd left them. Fleur, too, reached down…although on her part, it was fully intentional…to make sure that her precious husband's special equipment was still attached.

"Whatevair eet eez," Fleur whispered to Bill, "Let us 'ope eet eez not catcheeng!"

Percy had taken his glasses off and set them on the table in front of him to prevent him from seeing clearly. He wrapped an arm around Audrey and she buried her face in his shoulder.

Charlie, although disturbed by the visual, smirked and reached a hand across the back of Ron's chair to pat George proudly on the back. George was still laughing uncontrollably, ignoring his father's glares.

Ginny stared at the emptiness of her boyfriend's loins for what seemed, to Harry, an eternity. When she finally looked up at Harry, she could ask only one question. Okay, truth be told, there was another question or two on her mind, but Ginny Weasley was not about to voice them. _How'd it happen? Where'd it go? Will it grow back? How do you pee?_ The only question that she _did_ ask, however, was…

"Who did this to you?"

Harry closed his eyes. He wanted to run and hide. He wanted to die! How could this be happening right here, right now? WHY was this happening? He took a deep breath, and opened his eyes, looking at Ginny. As an answer to her question, Harry merely pointed across the table towards the laughing form of George Weasley.

In a move similar to the one Ron had made, Ginny leapt across the table, but instead of protecting George from the awkward sight of Harry's missing genitals, she slammed into George knocking them both to the ground and then proceeded to throttle her older brother.

"Change him back!!" she screeched, banging George's head into the grass and dirt over and over. Charlie tried to pull her off of George, but he wound up catching an elbow in his own sensitive anatomy and fell to the ground, clutching the assaulted appendage.

Harry felt someone move up behind him and clap a hand on his shoulder. He heard the deep voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt whisper in his ear, "You might want to pull your pants up now, Harry."

Blushing a deeper red than even a Weasley would have been capable of, and feeling like a complete moron for having stood there for several minutes in shock with his pants around his ankles, Harry bent down and quickly pulled his pants back up, holding them in place. He still looked quite dumbstruck, as if he didn't know what to do or what to say…so he wound up just standing there, holding up his pants.

"Ron…what's going on?" Hermione asked, her eyes still firmly hidden behind his and her own hands.

"I'm not sure," Ron replied, trying to peer over the table to see what was happening on the ground on the other side, "But I think Ginny's killing George."

"Oh," she said, not sure what else _to_ say to such a statement, "Is…uh…is Harry still…uh…exposed?"

Ron took a quick look over his shoulder to see that, thankfully, Harry had finally pulled up his trousers, "Not anymore."

"Then could you let go, please?" she asked, taking her own hands down, "I'd like to check on my parents."

"Yeah, alright," Ron let go of Hermione, and stood up so he could see what was going on with Ginny and George.

"What the Hell were you thinking?!" Ginny shouted as she continued to slam her brother's head into the ground.

George meanwhile looked like he was trying to answer his sister, but every time a word would form in his mouth, she would bounce his head off the ground, and the word would die, unspoken, on his lips.

"ENOUGH!" Mr. Weasley yelled, getting to his feet and drawing everyone's attention to him. None of the Weasleys were used to hearing the generally even-tempered man yell like that, so his voice had the effect of making everybody stop what they were doing, "Ginny! Let go of your brother!"

Stunned by her father's sudden outburst, Ginny let go of George, letting his head fall back into the grass.

"Thanks…Dad…" George gasped, smiling up at his father.

"George, I don't know what you did to Harry," Mr. Weasley said sternly, moving over to help his son to his feet, "But I want you to put things right this instant!"

"Uh…right, Dad," George said, sheepishly. He turned quickly and with a _pop_ he had Disapparated.

"Hey!" Ginny yelled, "You should've let me kill him, Dad. Now he's gotten away!"

Mr. Weasley put his hands on Ginny's shoulders and looked into his daughter's eyes, "Calm down, Ginevra. I'm sure your brother has just gone off to --…"

_Pop!_

"Got it!" George called out as he reappeared, a vial of lime green potion in his hand.

"Got what?" Ginny and Mr. Weasley asked at the same time.

"The antidote, of course," George said, beaming, "You don't create a product like _Bits Away_ without creating a counter-potion."

"Antidote!" Harry called from across the table, finally able to formulate a sentence, "You never told me there was an antidote!"

"You never asked!" George grinned.

"You said this would last a _month_!" Harry said accusingly.

"A month?!" Ginny screeched, "Give him the antidote, George!!"

Moments later, Harry was anxiously drinking the counter-potion. He was still having problems with his pants, but Mr. Weasley cast a Mending spell on them, and Harry's trouser problems were over. Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Granger were revived, and soon the drama was over…for the most part.

"Have you no shame?!" Molly Weasley wailed at her children once she'd come to her senses. Six chairs had been place a few yards from the table, and each seat was occupied with a Weasley child as Molly paced back and forth in front of them, "This is a special dinner…with special guests…and you do…THIS?!"

"Don't paint us all with the same brush, Mum," Ginny said smugly, "I for one had nothing to do with this."

"Oh, I'm terribly, terribly sorry, Ginevra," Molly said, sweetly before becoming angry once again, "Were you _not_ the one trying to dig a hole in my garden using your brother's head for a spade?!"

Ginny blushed and turned away realizing that she wasn't going to be exempt from Cyclone Molly's wrath.

"I ask for one night of good behavior from you lot, and what do I get? You embarrass the Minister, you castrate Harry, you climb on the table, and you try and kill one another!"

"I would like to say, Mother," Percy began raising a hand to call attention to himself, "That William, Charles, and I had nothing to do with ruining your fine dinner."

"Is that so, Percy?" Mrs. Weasley clucked, "And who was it that gave poor Harry a black eye? He won't say, but I seriously doubt the poor boy walked into a door like he said he did!"

Charlie coughed, trying to cover up a guilty chuckle. Mrs. Weasley smacked him in the back of the head as she walked by.

"You lot have ruined this special night…I hope you're happy," she continued to walk back and forth, glaring at her children, "I expect apologies from each one of you to Minister Shacklebolt, Mr. and Mrs. Granger, Hermione, and especially poor Harry."

Percy raised a hand, as if to object.

"Yes, Percival, even from you!!"

The next several minutes were filled with the sounds of uncomfortable and embarrassed apologies from the six Weasley children. It was an uncomfortable situation all around. And when it was over, there was an awkwardness in the air that very handily signaled _the party's over_.

"Well, supper was ruined," Molly clucked as she used her wand to clear the table of the various bowls of spilled food, "Perhaps we'll have better luck with the pudding…although I'm wondering if, perhaps, my children should be sent to their rooms without it."

"Mum…I'm twenty-seven years old, I'm married, and I have my own house," Bill quipped trying to lighten the mood, "Do you really think you can send me to my room without dessert?"

Molly was about to open her mouth to retort until the_ other_ Mrs. Weasley chimed in.

"Eef your muzzair says you weel not 'ave dessairt, Weelliam," Fleur said, glaring at her husband with her ice-blue eyes, "I assure you zere weel be no dessairt for you!! And zat goes for at home, az well!"

Bill sighed and nodded, "Sorry, Mum."

"I think it best if you _don't_ send your family off just yet, Molly," Kingsley spoke for the first time since Molly's rampage had begun, "My second announcement involves _all_ the Weasleys…and Miss Granger as well."

"Me?" Hermione looked shocked, and her parents looked slightly worried.

"Yes," Kingsley nodded, "But we'll get to that in a moment. I believe someone said there was cake? I do hope it's chocolate."

The Minister's comment lightened the mood considerably, and after all the Weasleys pitched in to clean up the wreck that had become of their Sunday supper, chocolate cake was served, along with Molly's homemade raspberry tarts and apple pasties.

With the comfortable atmosphere of the get-together restored, friendly conversation broke out over coffee and sweets. Pretty soon the idle chit-chat died down and Kingsley was finally ready to get the main point of his visit to the Burrow.

"As most of you are aware, the War against Voldemort was very costly, and not just in the human toll, but in the damage done to our government as well. Things are getting better, but on some fronts, morale is still low. In a few weeks' time there's going to be a ceremony…honoring the dead, celebrating the heroes, that sort of thing."

At the mention of _the dead_, most eyes at the table drifted across the garden to where Fred's grave-marker sat quietly in the darkness.

"As I'm sure you know, this family has done more to keep the wizarding world…the world in general…safe from Voldemort's clutches than any other single family in the history of wizarding Britain. Your work within the Order of the Phoenix as well as during the final battle against Voldemort's forces was invaluable. And of course, your family paid the price."

The Weasleys were somber as the Minister continued; shooting occasional glances out into the night towards Fred's final resting place. He was the price they had paid for helping to stop Voldemort.

"At the ceremony, each member of the Weasley family, for its involvement in the war and for services above and beyond the call will be awarded the Order of Merlin, Third Class…except for Ronald."

"Huh?" Ron looked up, confused as to why he was being excluded.

"Now see here, Kingsley!" Arthur started, getting a bit indignant. He knew how instrumental his son had been in the fight against Voldemort, and it was an injustice that he would be left out while the rest of the family was celebrated.

An angry murmur broke out amongst the other Weasleys and their guests. Hermione and Harry looked fit to do bodily harm to the Minister.

Kingsley held his hands up to try and calm everyone's raised tempers, "Peace, everybody…hear me out. Ronald will not be receiving the Order of Merlin, Third Class because without the efforts of Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Harry Potter, Lord Voldemort would not have fallen. To say their efforts were invaluable is an understatement. They are true heroes and the wizarding world owes them an incalculable amount of thanks. Ronald, along with Miss Granger and Harry Potter will be awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class."

A murmur of excitement erupted around the table. Ron was thunderstruck, looking paler than normal as his brothers slapped him on the back and Hermione smiled brightly at him from across the table as her own parents proudly congratulated her.

The rest of the evening went by quickly as plans for the ceremony were detailed and explained. The Minister said his goodbyes as the gathering broke up for the night. Bill and Fleur Flooed home while Percy and Audrey Apparated back to his flat and Charlie Apparated back to Romania.

For what he had done to Harry, George was ordered to wash and dry all the dinner dishes _without_ the use of magic. John and Elizabeth Granger joined Arthur and Molly in the sitting room to talk amongst themselves for a bit before the Grangers made their way home. Ginny and Harry headed for a moonlit stroll down by the pond while Harry assured her that George's counter-potion had worked. Ron and Hermione, meanwhile, sat on a bench near the back of the house looking up at the stars and holding hands.

"You never did tell me how you got here," Ron said after several minutes of silent stargazing.

"You never asked," Hermione quipped cheekily, putting her head on his shoulder.

"Okay, well, I'm asking _now_," he said.

"My parents' house has been connected to the Floo network," she explained matter-of-factly, "It was one of the arrangements the Ministry made – it was on that piece of parchment Dad gave Percy."

"What?! That git!!" Ron yelled, his ears flashing red with anger, "He could've told me and this would have saved a whole lot of grief! I could have come to get you and --…"

Hermione put a hand to his mouth to quiet him, "I _asked_ Percy not to tell you, because I wanted it to be a surprise."

"Well, you surprised me," he replied sarcastically, "I really thought you weren't coming."

"I told you, Ron," she said, curtly, "I wasn't going to come. But then _someone_ sent me an owl calling me _childish_ and _immature_!"

"Uh-oh," Ron looked over at her, knowing he was in trouble, "'Mione…I did that for a reason! I knew if I got you mad you'd come if for no other reason than to yell at me!"

"Congratulations, Ronald!" Hermione yelled, jumping to her feet, her hands on her hips, "Your plan was successful!!"

"Bloody Hell!!"

* * *

**Author's End Notes: **There you have it. Not my best work in my opinion. What do you think?


	28. After Dinner Conversation

**Author's Notes:** I guess I need to start giving myself the benefit of the doubt. I thought last chapter was going to be horrendous...felt I was scattered in too many directions for it to be worth the paper it's printed on (that's a joke for ya'!). Of course, overwhelming positive response leads me to believe it turned out just fine. Of course, that's not to say I didn't drop the ball a couple of times. There were at east TWO plot points I'd intended to touch on that I completely bulldozed right over. This chapter, courtesy of a couple of handy-dandy flashbacks, I managed to jam the square pegs of those plot points, into the round holes of this chapter.

As I started working on this chapter last night, sometime around 11:00 or 12:00, I hit a groove and it just started to flow. Next thing I knew it was 5 AM and half the chapter was written. I'm thinking it turned out pretty good...hopefully you will, too.

My reviewers (**Edinburgh Love**, **Ann Malfoy**, **Cantletharrygo**, **CutewithAcapital-Q**, **fatyellowrat**, **Avanell**, **Dizzy0305**, **katie1985**, **Elytha**, **Trude**, **mugglemama**, **emmy1124**, **Emma.Jane-HPfan**, **Moony3005**, **IsI Wisi**, **Lady Anja**, **embergrl9010**, **the written princess**, **MissFinnegan**, **Tiffany M**, **kareem33**, **randomguy1517**, **Shlesha**, **ronniemione**,** sarah-keyko**, **not for lack of trying**, **Emm04**, **Jacob's-One-Girl**, **Ravenhaired2**, and **Nosta82**, **Aly-Cat 101**, **EnglishGirlVerity**,** marauders rox**, **Lane Joey**, **allenterrill**, **skippyboo**, **Larelles**, **kellymc1**, **xxafterglowxx**, **screamxheart**, **zsdvnn**, and** Foxy-Steph**) can beat up YOUR reviewers!! :-) I love my reviewers. They rule!!

"Aftermath" is rated M for language and naughty stuff.

**Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling is the one who owns the copyright to this stuff.

* * *

**"Aftermath"**

**Chapter 28 -- After-Dinner Conversation**

"So it's really grown back?" Ginny asked as she and Harry took a walk down around the pond in the garden at the Burrow. She kept shooting glances down at the front of Harry's trousers, only to snap her gaze back up to his face when she realized he saw what she was doing.

"Yes, Gin," Harry chuckled, having answered this question about a dozen times since he'd taken the counter-potion to George's _Bits Away_ concoction, "It's all back where it belongs, and judging by my last visit to the loo, it works the way it's supposed to."

"Alright, just checking," she said, laughing happily.

"It was pretty vicious the way you went after George," he said, smiling, "I certainly hope _I_ never piss you off that bad."

"Well, as long as you don't secretly make my boyfriend's bits disappear," Ginny said, her smile broadening, "I think you're safe."

"As long as you don't go getting yourself another boyfriend," Harry said, taking her hand and pulling her to him, "I don't think we'll have to worry about that. I like my bits right where they are."

"Me too," Ginny said, reaching up and running her fingers through his messy hair, moving his bangs out of his face.

"Careful…" Harry quirked an eyebrow at her, "If Charlie hears you say that, he'll blacken my other eye."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about _that_ happening, Harry," Ginny stood up on her tip-toes and kissed him tenderly on his lips.

_Dinner and dessert were over, and Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt had just left the Burrow, and the elder three Weasley sons were about to do the same. Each of the men said goodbye to their parents, their guests, and each of their siblings. Charlie Weasley had chosen his baby sister Ginny to be the last one he said goodbye to. This would prove to be a mistake._

_"Well, Gin-Gin," Charlie walked up to her, his arms open wide for a hug, "I'm out of here…places to go, dragons to keep…you know how it is."_

_Ginny stepped into his arms and hugged him tight. She loved each and every one of her brothers, and she hardly ever got to see Charlie. He was always in Romania and she was always away at school. Moments later, she stepped back and looked up at her brother as his smile beamed down at her._

_"You know I love you, baby sister," he said, taking out his wand as he prepared to Disapparate._

_"And _you_ know I love _you_, big brother," she smiled, "I have something I want to give you before you go."_

_"Oh yeah? What's that?" Charlie asked, surprised that his sister had something to give him._

_"Close your eyes," Ginny said smiling._

_"Alright," the second oldest Weasley son did as his sister said, and shut his brown eyes, closing them tight and holding out his free hand, "Let me have it."_

_"You got it, big brother!"_

_Scowling, Ginny Weasley balled up her fist and swung at her brother with all her might, imagining that his freckled, carrot-topped head was a Quaffle she was trying to hit through a Slytherin goal hoop. Her fist connected with Charlie's left eye with such force – and he was so shocked by the punch – that he was knocked hard onto his bum._

_"GINNY!" Charlie yelled, grabbing his eye and looking up at his sister, "What the bloody Hell was _THAT_ about?!"_

_Ginny stood over Charlie, her brown eyes blazing with anger, her face red with fury, her fists balled up and ready to lunge at her older brother and beat his head into the ground if necessary._

_"I think you _KNOW _what that was about, Charles Weasley!" she shouted, stepping closer, causing him to scootch himself backwards across the grass._

_"Is it about Harry?" the dragon keeper asked, rubbing his sore left eye._

_"OF COURSE IT'S ABOUT HARRY!" the young spitfire screeched, "You gave him a black eye!"_

_"He shouldn't have slept with you Gin," Charlie said, defending his actions._

_"Oh my GOD!! Why couldn't I have been born into a family full of sisters?!" Ginny yelled, looking up to the heavens as if for an answer to her question, "He didn't SHAG me, Charlie, and even if he did, I can take care of myself!!"_

_"That's easy for you to say," Charlie griped, starting to slowly get to his feet, keeping an eye on his loose-cannon baby sister, "But how do we really know you can handle yourself if a guy starts trying to take advantage of you?"_

_"First of all," Ginny snapped, "Harry wouldn't take advantage of me, and secondly, you're a bloody dragon keeper, and I dropped _you_ with _one punch_!"_

_Charlie grimaced. She'd caught him by surprise, but the fact of the matter was, she had one Hell of a right cross. He picked his wand up off the grand and dusted himself off. He looked at Ginny, taking her all in despite his swollen left eye. She wasn't a little girl anymore. She could handle herself. She could certainly handle Harry Potter._

_"I still love you, you know," he said stiffly, his jaw clenched should she decide to take another swing at him._

_"I know you do, Charlie," she sighed, throwing her arms around him and giving her big brother a kiss on the cheek, "Thank you for trying to look out for me…even if I can take care of myself."_

_Charlie grunted in agreement, once more rubbing his eye._

_"I love you, Charlie. Come back soon, alright?"_

_"I'll do my best," he nodded, giving her a slight smile, "Tell Harry…sorry about the eye."_

"I can't believe you beat _two_ of your brothers up for me tonight!" Harry laughed, kissing the top of her head, "I thought it's the guy's job in the relationship to beat people up for the girl."

Ginny looked up at him, a playfully smirk on her lips and laughter shining in her eyes. It took him a few moments but Harry caught on to what that look meant.

"Hey! I am _not_ the girl in this relationship!!"

"Of course you're not, Harry," Ginny said in a patronizing voice, reaching up and patting him tenderly on the cheek, "Now that you've got your bits back, anyway."

"I'm the _man_," Harry said, although he seemed to be talking to himself more than to Ginny who had started to continue her walk around the pond, "Hey! Wait, Gin!" he called, hurrying to catch up to her.

"So have any of my other brothers done anything I need to know about?" she asked once he fell into step beside her again.

"Are you going to beat _them_ up, too?" Harry asked, casting a sidelong glance at her.

"I will if they deserve it," Ginny replied seriously. She reached out and grabbed his hand, "Nobody does stuff to _my_ man but _me_!"

"Hey!" Harry tried to be indignant, but it was difficult when Ginny was laughing so lyrically, "Wait…what sort of _stuff_ do you plan on doing to me?"

* * *

"So I'm childish and immature, eh Ronald?" Hermione snapped, hands firmly placed on hips, waiting for him to answer, "Do you know what _you_ are?"

"Err…an idiot?" Ron asked, hoping to quell her anger by disparaging himself, "A bloody daft moron who should have known better than to call you those names because they are the complete opposite of what you are."

"Err…that's right," Hermione said, her anger fading into confusion for a few moments. This is not how this was supposed to go. He was supposed to quarrel with her, not concur with her! What was he up to?

"You're mature," Ron went on, doing his best to disarm her by completely agreeing with her argument. It was a risky tactic, but sometimes when a frontal assault would prove disastrous, stealth was called for, "You always handle yourself in an adult manner and you had every right and reason to _not_ want to attend supper tonight."

"Well, yes, you're right, I did," Hermione nodded, trying to remember what her point had been when she started this row.

"In fact," Ron said, standing up and crossing his arms, "It was insulting of me to attempt to use guilt to get you to come tonight."

"Now, I wouldn't say it was insulting…" she said, not wanting to seem too harsh.

"It was presumptuous of me to think you'd want to come to every single family supper just because we're dating," he said, looking away from her.

"It _was_ an important dinner, after all," Hermione defended him, "Your mother _did_ have her heart set on my parents and me attending."

"Important or not," Ron continued, "Mum needs to learn that you can't just force people to do what you want. She thinks she can order you around like you're one of us!"

"I…I like that your mum treats me like family, Ron," she said, placing her hand on his back and rubbing it to try and comfort him, "Honestly, I do, Ron."

"You sure?" he asked, casting a glance over at her, and hiding his grin, "You sure you're alright with all this?"

"Of course I'm sure," she nodded, smiling at him, "It got a little out of hand, but it turned out nice."

He returned her smile and put his arms around her. He leaned down to kiss her, and she tilted her head up, wrapping her arms around his neck. Seconds later, their lips were entangled, their tongues entwined while their hands caressed each other lovingly.

Hermione melted into Ron's arms and they sank together onto the bench to get a bit more comfortable as they snogged out back of the Burrow under the stars. Until, suddenly, Hermione pulled away.

"Wait a minute!" she said harshly, pushing Ron away for some room to think. Her mind started racing as she realized what had just happened.

"'Mione? What's wrong?" Ron asked, wanting to get back to the kissing. She tasted like chocolate icing.

"You sneaky git!" she yelled, punching him in the arm, "You changed tactics on me!!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he lied, furrowing his brow.

"You treated our row like some sort of chess game!" she accused, jumping to her feet, "The direct approach wasn't going to work, so you altered your strategy, agreeing with me instead of arguing! That's…that's not fair!!"

"Why not?" Ron asked, getting up and moving towards her, causing her to back up, "I agree with you. Everything you said is true. You win. Fight's over."

"Yes, but I'm angry with you, Ron!" Hermione said, although she didn't sound too convinced.

"You didn't seem angry thirty seconds ago," he said, raising an eyebrow and smiling lopsidedly at her.

"Well, no, that's because we were kissing," she explained, "I'm never angry when we're kissing…"

"Good to know," he said, taking her in his arms and kissing her neck.

"Ohhhhh," she moaned at his touch, closing her eyes, "You're horrible, you know that?"

"Yes, I do," he agreed, kissing his way up to her ear, lowering his voice to a whisper, "I'm completely despicable."

Hermione shivered as he whispered in her ear. She looked nervously towards him, "I won the fight?"

"You won," he nodded, nibbling her earlobe and then kissing his way down her jaw.

"Good! Fight's over. Let's make up!"

Hermione threw her arms around Ron again and they returned themselves to the intense snogging they had been engaged in only a few moments before. Snogging Hermione was way too good a thing to stop just so he could tell her the amazing news he'd gotten tonight. Ron would tell her later…when she wasn't doing that amazing thing with her tongue…her tongue that tasted amazingly like chocolate icing.

_"Mmmm…chocolate! My favorite!" Ron was alone in the kitchen of the Burrow following the break-up of the dinner party. Everyone would be going home soon, and with no one in the house at that moment, it gave Ron the perfect opportunity to sneak another piece of chocolate cake for himself. He shoved half the slice into his mouth in one bite. He hadn't expected to be locked in conversation with the Minister for Magic when he'd done it._

_"Mr. Weasley," Kingsley Shacklebolt said in his deep, baritone voice, clapping a hand on Ron's shoulder, "I've been meaning to talk to you privately."_

_Ron did his best to swallow the huge wad of cake in his mouth as he turned, chocolate icing adorning the corners of his mouth, to face the head of the wizarding government._

_"Yeah…err…yes…sir?" Ron was having a hard time with the whole Kingsley from the Order is now the Minister situation._

_"Harry wasn't the only one that Minerva McGonagall spoke to me about, Ronald," he said, a kind look on his intimidating face, "She also told me of your desire to become an Auror."_

_"She did?" Ron looked confused. If Kingsley knew about Ron wanting to be an Auror, how come only Harry got the free ride?_

_"I had been planning to offer you the same chance as Harry," the Minister said, "Until I talked with your father at the Ministry."_

_"My dad?" Ron wondered what his father had said that would have made the Minister decide to change his mind. Maybe his dad thought he couldn't hack it as an Auror._

_"He told me about your brother, George, and how you've been helping him back on his feet," Shacklebolt said, a look of respect in his dark eyes, "Not many young men your age would put their own ambitions aside to help their family."_

_Ron shrugged. What could he say to that? His family was important to him, and he would do whatever it took to help them whenever they needed it._

_"That's why I didn't make the offer to you at dinner," he explained, "I figured you didn't need your whole family staring at you why you tried to decide between helping your brother and following your own dream. With that kind of pressure you might not make the decision you _want_ to make."_

_"I see," Ron said glumly. It still would have been nice if Kingsley had offered._

_"So, here I am now…in private…nobody but us here," the former Auror said, "Making you the same offer that I made Harry. A spot in the Auror training program…a chance to join the Auror Corps without sitting the N.E.W.T.s…what do you say?"_

_This was his chance! A chance to join the Auror Corps right alongside his best mate and keep the world safe from dark wizards and other crazy bastards who thought they might be the next all-powerful Dark Lord. He'd be his own man, making his own path in life…and making more than he got paid working at the joke shop! George would understand. His whole family would understand. They'd be behind him no matter what he did._

_"No."_

_"Excuse me?" Kingsley wasn't sure he heard what Ron had said._

_"Thanks, but no," Ron said, "Right now, my place is beside George, helping him get back on his feet."_

_Kingsley said nothing, but looked deeply into Ron's eyes for several moments. Finally, a smile broke out on the Minister's dark face and he extended a hand to Ron._

_"I wouldn't have expected otherwise," he said, "Would've been a bit disappointed, in fact, if you said _yes_. It would've meant I had read you all wrong."_

_"Happy not to disappoint," Ron said, grimacing._

_"Cheer up, Cadet Weasley!" Shacklebolt laughed, slapping Ron on the back, "That's _your_ spot in the training academy…whether you take it in the fall with Harry, next spring, next year, or five years from now! It will be there when you want it."_

_Ron broke into a broad grin. He was going to get his shot after all. It could wait a couple of years if that's what George needed from him. Ron could wait…he could wait because it would be waiting for him._

_"Thank you, sir! Minister, sir!" Ron said, stumbling over his own words._

_"Call me Kingsley, Ron."_

* * *

"Oy! Get a room, you two!!" Harry yelled at the couple snogging on the bench as he and Ginny made their way up to the back of the lopsided house.

Hermione and Ron looked up, both of them scowling hatefully at him. He and Ginny stopped in their tracks for a few seconds at the viciousness of the look, and then continue on, laughing at the two lovers.

"You know, Harry," Hermione sighed in exasperation, "I've always said you have the absolute _worst_ timing of anyone imaginable."

"Thanks a lot, mate," Ron grumbled as Hermione pulled herself out of his grasp and stood up, "Remind me to kill you in your sleep tonight."

"Just remember, Ron," Ginny said mock-threateningly, "If you kill him in his sleep, you'll have me to answer to!"

"Wait a minute," Harry said, looking at his girlfriend, "If _I'm_ dead, what good does him answering to you do for me?"

"Well, none, of course, Harry," Ginny said, patting his arm soothingly, "But you'll be dead, so you won't care. Besides, won't your spirit rest easy knowing you were avenged?"

"Not especially," he whined, "I'd rather he answered to you _before_ he killed me in my sleep!"

"But, mate," Ron cut in, grinning, "If I don't kill you in your sleep _first_, there won't be anything for me to answer to her for."

"Really, Harry," Hermione chimed in, smiling, "You have to understand how these things work. There's a natural progression to these sorts of things, and you can't just take them out of order. Honestly, Harry!"

Ron, Ginny, and Hermione broke into laughter, and after a few moments, Harry sighed and laughed too.

"I am _so_ glad my death is a cause for such joy amongst my dear, dear friends," Harry playfully whined.

"Oh come off it, mate," Ron said, draping an arm across Harry's shoulder, "The day you die will probably be declared a National Day of Mourning. Wizards and witches alike will weep like babies at news of your passing. They'll put your face on a Chocolate Frog card (how cool would _that_ be, mate?). Nimbus will put out a new broomstick and call it _the Harry Potter Special_. Hogwarts will rename the hospital wing in _your_ honor."

"Gee, Ron, sounds like you've put an awful lot of thought into me dying," Harry smirked.

"Yeah, well…it looked a bit iffy there for a while, didn't it?" Ron said, blushing, "If it's any consolation, mate, I figured I'd be dead, too."

The two girls stood there staring at Ron open-mouthed.

"What?" he asked, embarrassed, "I had a lot of time to think while we were hunting Horcruxes…sitting there at night, keeping watch…a mind starts to wander."

"And I suppose I died, too, in this maudlin little fantasy of yours," Hermione said, a little indignantly.

"Err…no, actually. I figured you'd make it through unscathed, find me just before I snuffed it…there'd be this emotional encounter with you crying and me confessing my love to you…even though I'd been too afraid of rejection to tell you before. I'd die, and then you'd be so heartbroken you'd spend your whole life mourning me, dressed in black and whatnot, unable to shake the memory of the love that could've been."

They looked at him open-mouthed again, this time Harry joining in.

"Shut it, you lot," he grumbled, his ears flaming red, "Like I said…I had a lot of time to think."

Ginny patted him on the arm, "And now we see that thinking is really _not _your strong suit."

The three of them laughed at Ron as they all made their way inside the house. Hermione made a point of walking close enough to Ron to squeeze his hand and whisper in his ear.

"You're right…I'd have never gotten over you."

They smiled at each other and exchanged a short, chaste peck on the lips.

The two couples passed George as he was still slaving over the huge pile of dinner dishes, washing and drying them by hand. His eyes were weary and the front of his clothes were soaked with soapy water.

"Give me a hand, you lot," George pleaded, "Mum won't have to know!"

Smiling viciously, Ginny turned towards the kitchen door, "Mum!! George is trying to get us to help him with the dishes!!"

"YOU DO THOSE DISHES YOURSELF, GEORGE WEASLEY!!" Molly yelled from the sitting room, "THAT WAY YOU'LL HAVE LESS FREE TIME TO PLAY HORRIBLE PRANKS ON PEOPLE!!"

George glared at his baby sister, brandishing a sudsy cooking spoon menacingly in her direction, "You are pure evil, Ginny!"

Ginny stuck her tongue out at George, took Harry's hand and led him out of the kitchen.

George turned to Ron and Hermione, practically begging for help, "Come on, Ronnie…I'm your boss. You've _got_ to help me!"

"Sorry, mate," Ron said halfheartedly, "I've already been in Mum's bad books once today, I'm not gonna risk it."

Hermione and Ron left George in the kitchen to his own devices, and when they entered the sitting room they found the Grangers just getting ready to leave.

"Ah…Ron, Hermione, perfect timing," Mr. Granger said, smiling at the young couple, "We were just getting ready to Floo home."

"We should be all settled by next weekend," Mrs. Granger said as she walked up and gave Ron a goodbye hug and peck on the cheek, "So we'd love for you to come to dinner on Saturday."

"That sounds great," Ron said, blushing at the kiss, but smiling just the same, "I'll see if George will let me off a little early that night."

"I'll see to it he does," Mrs. Weasley said, "Now, Hermione, dear, before you leave…could I please speak to you out front?"

"Sure, Mrs. Weasley," the girl said nervously, "You gone on ahead, Mum and Dad, I'll be along shortly."

"Alright, dear," Mrs. Granger said, kissing her daughter on the cheek, "See you at home."

Hermione watched as her parents, one by one, stepped into the fireplace and, using the magical green powder, sent themselves hurtling through the Floo Network back to their own home somewhere on the outskirts of London.

Once they were gone, Hermione slowly followed Mrs. Weasley out the front door. Hermione wasn't sure what her boyfriend's mother was going to say to her – although Mrs. Weasley had said something about owing her an apology – and that made her nervous. Anytime she went into a situation with unknown factors, she was nervous.

Molly closed the door behind them as they walked out front and motioned for Hermione to take a seat on the weathered-looking wooden bench next to the front door. Mrs. Weasley stood still for a moment as if collecting her thoughts before she addressed Hermione. Once she'd gathered her thoughts together she sat on the bench beside Hermione and took the girl's hands in her own.

"Hermione-dear, let me start off by saying I couldn't be happier that you and Ronald are together," Molly said, looking deeply into the young girl's eyes, "His heart had belonged to you since before even _he_ knew it."

Hermione blushed as she heard this. Mr. Weasley had said something similar to her before, but it was still amazing to hear.

"That being said, I was…disappointed…when I found the…_token_…you had given Ronald, and learned that the two of you had engaged in premarital…_activities_," Mrs. Weasley said, blushing, herself, as she brought the subject up, "He's my baby boy, you understand, and I don't like to think of him as a man with...lusts."

Hermione could have been mistaken for a Weasley at this point, her face was so red. Had she but had the red hair, she'd have been a dead ringer for another Weasley daughter.

"In my day, it wasn't proper for a young lady to…_consort_…with a boy, or a man, in that manner before they were married," Molly continued on, "And if she did…well…she usually kept it a secret or was labeled…"

"A scarlet woman?" Hermione supplied, having grown familiar with the term.

"Yes," Molly nodded, "When I found out about you and Ronald, I made awful assumptions about your character and said horrible things about you while you weren't here to defend yourself. You should be quite proud of Ronald…he stood up for you quite vehemently."

"He always does," Hermione said with a smile and her eyes teared up a little, "He always has."

"He loves you deeply, Hermione," Molly said with a warm, caring smile, "I don't think he ever could love anyone else."

"I love him, too," she said, returning the smile, "I don't want him to love anyone else."

"Good," Molly patted the girl's hand, "I know how difficult it was for you to come here tonight. Ron said you didn't think you could face me after what happened."

"I wish he hadn't told you that," Hermione said, shame-faced.

"I'm glad he did, dear" Mrs. Weasley said quickly, trying to alleviate the girl's embarrassment, "It made me realize how unfair I was to you. You and Ronald…as much as it pains me to admit this…are adults now. It's your business how the two of you choose to express your love and no one else's; especially not mine. I was short-tempered and insulting and I hurt someone I care about deeply. And for that, Hermione, I am truly sorry."

Mrs. Weasley swept Hermione into a big hug and the two women cried on each other's shoulder for several moments.

"I f-forgive you, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said, sniffling as they broke the hug, "I promise that Ron and I will be more discreet…if I ever let him touch me again."

"You will, dear," Molly smiled, wiping away Hermione's tears, "There's something about Weasley men that makes them irresistible."

Hermione laughed and nodded. She knew what Mrs. Weasley meant. Even when she was absolutely furious with him, there was something about Ronald Weasley that made her long to be held in his arms.

"I do hope you'll still let me think of you as one of my own," Molly said sheepishly.

"I'd be devastated if you didn't," Hermione admitted, hugging the older woman tightly.

There were several more minutes of tearful hugging until Molly pulled away and gave Hermione a serious look, "Now, Hermione, dear, there's something I think we need to discuss now that we're back in each other's good graces again."

"Okay…" Hermione wasn't sure she liked the older woman's serious tone.

"I want grandchildren."

"WHAT?!" Hermione tried to jump up off the bench, but Molly held her place.

"Hear me out, dear, hear me out!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, trying to calm the girl down, "I want grandchildren…BUT…I don't want you and Ronald to be the ones to give me my first grandbaby."

"Oh…thank Merlin!" Hermione gasped, her hand on her chest, trying to get her heartbeat under control.

"That being said, dear," Molly continued on, still very serious, "There's a spell I need to show you…or some potions I could teach you to brew…to ensure that, if you and Ronald…engage…in further…_activities_…that you won't wind up in a motherly way."

Hermione's face was burning. She felt sure her hair was going to ignite she was so flushed embarrassment. She nodded and looked down at her shoes, "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley…I'd appreciate that."

After several more minutes, during which Molly Weasley instructed Hermione – who was always a fast learner – on the incantation and wand motion for _the spell_, the two women walked back inside to find Ron pacing back and forth in front of the couch waiting for them.

When he saw Hermione come through the door, he hurried over to her and hugged her, "Everything okay?" he asked nervously, "She didn't yell at you did she?"

"Of course not, Ron," Hermione laughed, smiling at him, "We had a nice talk."

"What did you talk about?" Ron asked.

"Your mum wants grandchildren."

"WHAT?!"

**-- End Chapter 28 --**

* * *

**Author's End Notes:** How was that? Hopefully, I won't drop any intended plot points in the future, but if I do, I'll try and be sure to work them in SOMEHOW...even if it means resorting to flashbacks.


	29. With Friends Like These

**Author's Notes:** Here's today's chapter...a little more trouble on the friendship front for Ron and Harry! Check it out and tell me what you think!

My reviewers always make my day, and they've been great! Thank you so much everybody! **Edinburgh Love**, **Ann Malfoy**, **Cantletharrygo**, **CutewithAcapital-Q**, **fatyellowrat**, **Avanell**, **Dizzy0305**, **katie1985**, **Elytha**, **Trude**, **mugglemama**, **emmy1124**, **Emma.Jane-HPfan**, **Moony3005**, **IsI Wisi**, **Lady Anja**, **embergrl9010**, **the written princess**, **MissFinnegan**, **Tiffany M**, **kareem33**, **randomguy1517**, **Shlesha**, **ronniemione**,** sarah-keyko**, **not for lack of trying**, **Emm04**, **Jacob's-One-Girl**, **Ravenhaired2**, and **Nosta82**, **Aly-Cat 101**, **EnglishGirlVerity**,** marauders rox**, **Lane Joey**, **allenterrill**, **skippyboo**, **Larelles**, **kellymc1**, **xxafterglowxx**, **screamxheart**, **zsdvnn**, **Foxy-Steph**, and **Kirsty-Luan**

"Aftermath" is rated M for language and naughty stuff.

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and all other significant characters, events, locations, etc. belong to J.K. Rowling.

* * *

**"Aftermath"**

**Chapter 29 -- With Friends Like These**

"What do you mean my Mum wants grandchildren?" Ron exclaimed, fear evident in the depths of his blue eyes, "I'm too young…_you're_ too young…doesn't she know that _we're too young_?! You've got school! I haven't saved any money yet! I'm not ready yet!! Someone's got to tell her that I'm not ready for this yet!!"

He was breathing heavily and looked as if he might just hyperventilate, and his face was slightly green. Hermione stood there watching him, quirking an eyebrow at him and smirking slightly as he wound himself up. He was so cute when he was like this.

"As heartwarming as your concern for _my_ readiness to have children is," she remarked sarcastically, "You really do need to calm down, Ron. I was teasing you."

"Huh-wha…?" he looked up at her, confused, beads of sweat covering his forehead.

"Your mother wants grandchildren," Hermione repeated, "BUT…she wants to be sure _we're_ not the ones who give them to her yet."

"Oh, thank Merlin…" Ron gasped, taking a seat on the nearby couch.

"She taught me a spell…and she's going to show me how to make some potions," Hermione continued, taking a seat next to Ron, "So if you and I were to…_you know_…we'd be protected and wouldn't have to worry about getting pregnant."

"Alright…good," Ron sighed, resting his head on the back of the couch. He draped an arm across his face, looking exhausted. Hermione slipped an arm behind his back and snuggled up to his side, resting her head on his shoulder. He immediately wrapped his free arm around her, "So this spell…did you cast it already?"

"Don't even _think_ about it, Ronald!" Hermione scolded, slapping his arm, "But, yes…I did."

"Wicked!"

"Which is exactly what you must think I _am_ if you think that you and I are going to do anything to _test_ the spell any time soon!" she said pulling away from him.

"What happened to _'after Australia'_?" he asked, casting a sidelong glance at her, dropping his arm from across his face.

"That changed when my knickers became a matter of public record," Hermione said doing her best to sound authoritarian…as if channeling the spirit of Professor McGonagall.

"Fair enough," Ron nodded, "How long does the spell last?"

"Err…a month," she looked at him strangely, like she could tell he was up to something.

"So…I've got a month to get you to let me in," he replied with a cheeky grin. His head was still reclined onto the back of the couch, but he had turned his head to face her.

"_Let you in_?" Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, "What do you…?"

"Let. Me. In," Ron nodded his head towards her lap as he finished speaking, his grin still plastered across his face.

"Oh! You're disgusting!" she groaned, pushing him away.

"You're right," he nodded, "I'm a complete and total pig."

"Well, you're not _that_ ba--…hey!!" she yelled, punching his arm, "I'm not falling for that again! You're not going to agree with me just so we'll wind up snogging! It's not going to work this time!!"

"I guess I'll just have to work out a different strategy," he smiled, giving her the once over.

"Oh really?" she quirked an eyebrow at him, "Like what?"

"Well, if the sneak attack won't work," he said, lunging at her and kissing her quickly on the lips, "Go back to the direct approach!"

"You prat!" Hermione laughed wrapping her arms around him, "Do you know how difficult it is to be mad at you?"

"I'm hoping it's nigh impossible," Ron waggled his eyebrows and kissed her again.

She pulled back and smiled at him, "_Nigh_ impossible?"

"It means…"

"I _know_ what it means, you git!" Hermione laughed, "I just didn't know that _you_ did!"

"Always the tone of surprise," he said winking at her. Hermione broke out into a musical laugh only to be silenced by Ron's mouth over her own. Within moments the only sounds heard from the two were the soft, wet sounds of snogging.

An hour later, Hermione Flooed home to her parents' house leaving Ron to make his way upstairs to the room he shared with Harry. He met Ginny on the way down, but was too content with his recent snogging session with Hermione that he either didn't notice, or just chose not to comment on how flushed and disheveled Ginny looked as she descended from the attic bedroom.

"Alright there, Ron?" Harry asked with a smile as he noticed the happy look on his best friend's face as he entered the room.

"Alright," Ron replied as he changed into his pajamas, "You?"

"Never better," Harry nodded. He was already in his pajamas and was reclining comfortably in bed.

"Saw Ginny coming down the steps," Ron said once he was dressed in his too-short pajama bottoms. He sat on his bed and looked across at Harry, "Do I want to know what you guys were doing?"

"Probably not," Harry replied, sitting up. He didn't want to be lying down if his best friend decided to attack him.

Ron looked down at the floor. Seeing his best friend with his sister wasn't easy, but if there was one guy he would _want_ to see Ginny fall for, Harry was it. "You're not pushing her, right? Only going as far as _she _wants?"

"Ron…" Harry rolled his eyes, "Are we going to go through this every single time I snog your sister?"

"That's not a _yes_," Ron said, looking up.

"Fine, Ron!" Harry snapped, "YES! I'm _only_ going as far as Ginny _wants_, alright?!"

"Sorry, Harry," Ron sighed, looking back down, "It's just…"

"I know, Ron. She's your little sister. You're her big brother. You're protective. I get it already," Harry raved, "Are you going to lecture me or attack me or prank me now? If so, can we get it over with so maybe things can get back to normal between us?"

"Actually, Harry," Ron said sheepishly, "I was the one who pantsed you earlier…so I guess I owe you an apology."

"That was you?!" Harry snapped, his eyes flaring angrily, "How? WHY?!"

"Err…the Severing charm," Ron replied, answering the _how_, "As for _why_…well…I wanted to embarrass you."

"Why would you want to embarrass me?" Harry asked, his face a mask of betrayal, "You're supposed to be my best friend!"

Ron looked up guiltily at Harry, "Look, mate, you were being celebrated like the Second Coming of Merlin…as usual…and 'Mione was too ashamed to show her face because _you_ went through my things and left her knickers out. It wasn't fair. I…wanted to knock you down a rung or two. I had no idea George had cut off your twig-and-berries…otherwise I probably wouldn't have done it."

"PROBABLY!" Harry shouted jumping to his feet, "You _probably_ wouldn't have embarrassed me in front of my girlfriend, my _other_ best friend, her parents, your parents, your brothers, your brother's wife, your other brother's girlfriend, _and_ the bloody Minister for Magic _if_ you had known? What kind of bloody friend are you?!"

"Harry…come on, mate…I'm sorry."

"Save it, Ron!" Harry snapped, "You're overbearing, you're thick-headed, jealous, obnoxious and hot-tempered. Merlin knows how Hermione can put up with you, but I'm tired of it. I don't _want_ a best friend who's such an unbearable arse!"

"So…what? That's it, then?" Ron stood up, face-to-face with Harry, "Seven years of friendship, and you're just willing to walk away from it…over THIS? Seven years of me backing you up…of fighting by your side…of winding up in the bloody hospital wing each and every bloody school year JUST because I'm the mate of the bloody Boy-Who-Lived…and me and the friendship are being binned."

"Our friendship doesn't seem to mean anything to _you_ anymore," Harry said viciously, "Why should it mean anything to me?"

"Doesn't mean anything to me?" Ron's anger was up, and the guilt he'd felt was long gone, "At least I apologized! You never even bloody bothered!"

"Why should _I_ apologize?!" Harry asked, waving his arms angrily, "I'm not the one who betrayed my best friend!"

"Are you so sure?" Ron narrowed his eyes at him, "Because I'm pretty sure you were the one who rummaged around under my pillow and caused this whole problem with 'Mione's knickers!"

"Are we back on the stupid underpants again?!" Harry yelled, "Really? Is that the _only thing_ you have that you can keep running back to as an explanation for your actions?"

"You always do this…you get so caught up in yourself, in being the bloody Chosen One that you forget about the people around you. You hurt Hermione and didn't bother to apologize!!" Ron bellowed, not caring that it was late enough that people might just be trying to sleep, "You know me well enough, Harry, to know that I will not stand by and let someone hurt her! You need to apologize…or is _her_ friendship set for the rubbish bin as well?"

"I'll apologize to Hermione next time I see her," Harry hissed, turning his back on Ron, "_Her_ friendship means something."

"Fine," Ron said, bitingly. He grabbed his Chudley Cannons bedspread and his pillow (luckily he'd since hidden Hermione's knickers somewhere else) and made his way to the door. Harry turned around when he heard Ron leaving.

"Where do you think you're going?" Harry asked snidely.

"I'm going down to sleep on the couch…this will be your room next week anyway after I move out; you shouldn't have to share it with someone who isn't your friend."

Harry watched Ron go, too stunned to say anything. Ron was leaving…walking out him. He was moving out…just more proof that the Golden Trio was being ripped apart. Of course, at this point, Harry wasn't even sure there _was_ a Trio anymore. He'd said he was through with being Ron's friend…and if he really and truly meant it, how _could_ there be a Trio?

Hermione would undoubtedly take Ron's side in the split, and that would leave the two of _them_…a duo…a couple…and it would leave _him_…a loner…alone. At least they had stood by his side for the seven years that he needed them…the seven years that they were in danger every single moment because they were his friends. Now it didn't really matter…there was no more danger. There was only life…and it's not like he needed them to live. They were only his friends…only his family. Not like he needed them…

Harry dropped, depressed, onto the camp bed. This room would soon be his. He had never slept in this room alone; Ron had always been here before…except the one night he slept here with Ginny. Now, Ron would be in his own flat, with his own job, only coming to the Burrow for Sunday supper. And when he, Harry, went off to the Auror Academy in the fall, he wouldn't even see Ron on Sundays.

Not that it mattered. They weren't friends anymore. Ron had betrayed their friendship…stabbed him in the back…embarrassed him in front of everybody. No, Harry wouldn't be seeing Ron anymore after the fall…and he wouldn't miss him either. He was well rid of the obnoxious hot-head; so why couldn't he take his eyes off the bed across the room…the one so recently occupied by his ex-best friend?

* * *

When he awoke in the morning, Ron ached all over. The lumpy couch in the Burrow's sitting room was far from comfortable when it came to sleeping on it. Even worse, it was too short for Ron to stretch out completely thanks to his head. His feet had dangled over one of the arms, while his head lay at an uncomfortable angle on the other. He had a crick in his neck that was sure to last all day. However, it was the angry little redhead standing over him that told him his day was truly going to suck!

" 'Bout time you woke up!" Ginny snapped, hands on her hips.

"What time is it?" Ron asked, yawning. Without his alarm clock, he'd relied on the sunlight shining through the sitting room windows to wake him up.

"Half-six," she said, still glaring down at him, "Get up!" she kicked the couch, sending an unpleasant shockwave through the old piece of furniture.

"Bloody Hell, Gin, get off my back!" Ron growled, sitting up, "You do realize I don't normally get up for another hour yet." He stood up and stretched, causing his body to emit a series of _cracks_ and _pops_ as he did. "Now…what did you want?"

With all her might, Ginny shoved her brother, causing him to fall back onto the couch, his bum impacting with a particularly lumpy section of old cushion. Dumbstruck, Ron could do nothing but look up at his sister in total confusion.

"What the Hell…?!"

"You're my favorite brother, Ron," Ginny said in an angry voice, taking all the sentiment out of those words, "But you're also a huge prat! How could you do that to poor Harry?"

"You know what, Gin?" Ron scowled, once more getting to his feet, "I went through this with _poor Harry_ last night, and I'm not going to re-live it with you here and now."

"You're lucky I don't do to you what I did to George or Charlie!" she snapped, jabbing an angry finger into his chest.

"Harry doesn't need you fighting his battles for him, Ginny," he replied, shoving her hand (and pointy, poking finger) away from him, "He handled things just fine on his own. I apologized for what I did, and he ended our friendship. Problem solved. Now if you'll excuse me…I need to grab a shower before work."

Ron made his way up to the attic bedroom that he surrendered to Harry the night before and grabbed the clothes and work-robe he would need for the day. He found his former best friend sleeping peacefully in the camp bed, and Ron couldn't help feel a bit angry and sad at the same time. Harry had binned their friendship and still to sleep like a baby in its mother's arms, while he, Ron, had tossed and turned all night on a lumpy couch.

Ron sighed mournfully as he made his way downstairs towards the bathroom, _"Guess our friendship really does mean nothing to him anymore."_

Ron didn't see the one emerald eye slowly open to peer at his retreating back as he left the bedroom. Nor did he hear the regretful sigh as his former best friend stopped feigning sleep and finally sat up. Harry had gotten very little sleep after their falling out last night…but he didn't want _Ron_ to know that.

Harry had been up for an hour already and had spent much of that time talking to Ginny about last night…after he had taken his life in his own hands, of course, to wake her up. He very nearly lost his newly reacquired dangly parts.

Ginny had offered to beat Ron up for Harry. She was, apparently, still on an adrenaline high from the night before and was ready and willing to fight anybody in her family if it meant defending her boyfriend's honor. He told her not to bother, partly because he was really getting uncomfortable with the switched gender roles of her defending _his_ honor, and partly because he wasn't entirely sure that Ron wasn't completely right last night.

Harry didn't like the embarrassment caused by Ron's revenge last night…he didn't like having the attention called to his uncomfortable predicament…but it did, at least, lead to George giving him the antidote, so he got his bits back inside of a week, instead of taking an entire month for the _Bits Away_ to wear off on its own. So, some good did come of the whole situation. And Ron _did_ apologize and seem to genuinely feel bad for what he did. Maybe Harry _had_ been a bit too harsh, insulting Ron and throwing away their friendship…but surely they would make up. The Trio always made up anytime there was a rift in the friendship.

Of course, it usually took either a life-or-death struggle or a near fatal injury putting someone in the hospital wing before pride was swallowed and amends were made. Nothing made repairing a friendship easier than a trip to the hospital wing. Not that Harry had that luxury now that they were out of school. He'd have to think of something else if he didn't really want his friendship with Ron to be over.

Before he could fix things with Ron, Harry had to apologize to Hermione. He knew that there was probably no way Ron would even talk to him right now…but maybe after he said he was sorry to Hermione, she could help Harry out…get Ron to listen…or just threaten not to snog him anymore if he didn't forgive Harry for binning their friendship.

Harry sighed as he got out of bed and put his glasses on, "I get pantsed in front of everybody I care about, and I wind up having to apologize. Life is _not_ fair." That was a lesson Harry had learned only too well. Life _wasn't_ fair…especially for the Boy-Who-Lived.

* * *

When Ron walked into the kitchen shortly after Seven in the morning, he received a pleasant surprise. Hermione was sitting at the table sipping a cup of tea while his mother was busily cooking breakfast. She smiled brightly at her boyfriend when he came in.

"Good morning, Ron."

"'Mione...what are you doing here so early?" he asked, unintentionally sounding harsh.

Her smile faded, "Your mother is going to be instructing me in the brewing of _special potions_. Although, if my presence is a problem for you, perhaps we should forget about it altogether," she started to get up.

"No!" Ron moved as if to stop her from leaving, and when he did it caused the crick in his neck to twinge, making him grimace in discomfort.

"Are you alright, Ron?" she asked, her eyes shining with concern when she noticed the way his head was tilted at an odd angle. Mrs. Weasley noticed the exchange between the young couple, and moved away from the stove to check on her son.

"I slept at an odd angle, I guess," Ron explained, trying to shrug but causing himself more discomfort instead, "My neck's all stiff. Mmmm…" Ron moaned slightly as Hermione reached up and tenderly started to run his neck.

"I can get rid of that, Ronald," Molly said stepping behind him, brandishing her wand. She cast a wordless spell and tapped his neck with her wand.

Ron suddenly felt himself awash with warmth spreading out through his body from the point on his neck his mother had touched with her wand. The warmth started to tingle and retract back towards his neck and when the sensation was gone, so was his discomfort and he had full range of motion again.

"Thanks, Mum, that was great," he said enthusiastically, smiling at his mother. Hermione had started to pull her hands away from his neck, frowning slightly that she hadn't been more help, but Ron grabbed her hands and smiled at her, "And thank _you_ for making me feel better _before_ she cast that spell." He brought her hands to his lips and kissed them lovingly before letting go.

Hermione blushed and smiled…he was so sweet…so good to her. When Ron leaned back in his seat and insisted on knowing what was for breakfast, exaggeratedly patting his empty stomach, she couldn't help but laugh. She leaned close to him and whispered in his ear, "I love you, you know."

He turned to her and winked knowingly at her, smiling lopsidedly at her that special smile that he reserved only for her. Ron put an arm around her and pulled her chair closer to his and she immediately laid her head on his shoulder. She could get used to spending her mornings like this.

Everyone, it seemed, was surprised but not the least bit unhappy that Hermione was at the Burrow for breakfast. Mr. Weasley commented that it just wasn't the same without Hermione around all the time. George replied that his father would have to get _used_ to less people at the Burrow since he and Ron would be moving out by the end of the week. This brought an awkward silence to the table as it seemed no one but Ron and George was excited about the move…although Molly and Arthur did try to be supportive as best they could.

The entire time they ate breakfast, not once did Ron look at or say anything to Harry. If this seemed odd, it was made moreso by the fact that Harry, too, was avoiding looking at and talking to Ron. No one said anything about it, however, figuring that if the boys were fighting, they'd soon make up with each other.

Arthur was the first of the Weasleys to leave, hurrying through breakfast so that he could Apparate to work on time. The Ministry was finally starting to get itself back together, and every worker was being taxed to the limit, working overtime.

Soon (after three-and-a-half helpings for Ron…and a couple of Hermione's sausages…and the toast George wasn't going to eat), it was time for George and Ron to head off to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes to start another day of selling high quality joke products to the public.

"Remember, Mum," George said before walking out the backdoor, "Don't hold dinner for us. Ronnie and I will be checking out the flat tonight to get an idea of what we'll need to do to fix it up."

"Of course, dear," Molly nodded, hurrying to clear her sons' plates from the table, "I'll set some aside for the two of you. You can eat it whenever you get home. Just don't stay out all night."

"We won't, Mum," George kissed his mother and then left, a soft _pop_ from outback signaling his Disapparation.

Ron got up, grabbing an apple out of the fruit-bowl in the center of the table. He, too, kissed his mum goodbye, and then looked over towards his girlfriend. He motioned with his head for her to walk him out. Hermione excused herself and then followed Ron outside.

Once in the garden, he put his hands on her hips (once he stuffed the apple into a pocket of his robe) and leaned down and kissed her. Hermione's arms snaked around his neck and she eagerly welcomed her boyfriend's kisses. They had wasted a lot of time when they were younger, not admitting their feelings, and it seemed as though they were trying to make up for that lost time.

Eventually, and regretfully, Ron had to break away from the snogging, "I've got to go to work. Do you want to come check out the flat tonight with me and George? I'd love to get your opinion on the place."

"Sure," she nodded, smiling, happy that her opinion mattered to him.

"We close up shop around Six," he said kissing her once more on the lips, "Come by around then."

"I will," she nodded, kissing him back, "Have a good day at work!"

He smiled, and with a _crack_ Ron had Disapparated.

Hermione smiled as she imagined a similar scene playing out between herself and Ron years from now, at a home of their own, where they were husband and wife. She would see him off to work after preparing breakfast for her family, and then she would go back inside and take care of their children.

Hermione re-entered the Burrow. It would be some years yet before her little daydream came true, but she was pretty confident it would. The war was over, Voldemort was dead, and now people had a chance at living again…at building a life and a future. That's what Hermione Granger wanted more than anything…a future with Ron Weasley.

"As soon as you finish your breakfast, Hermione," Molly said as the brunette girl re-entered the kitchen, "We can begin the potions lesson."

Ginny looked between her mother and Hermione, "What sort of potions are you learning, Hermione?"

"Err…" Hermione wasn't sure she wanted Ginny to know what she was learning, especially with Harry there.

"She's going to be learning potions to protect herself," Molly said looking down at her daughter, and then glancing over at Harry, "And I think maybe you should learn them too, Ginny."

"Me? What do I need to protect myself from? For that matter what does Hermione…" Ginny stopped when she noticed that both her mother and her best friend were looking directly at Harry. Ginny's face brightened with the trademark Weasley blush and she buried her face in her hands, "Oh, Merlin…somebody just kill me now!"

"Am I missing something?" Harry asked, confused by this talk of protection potions and Ginny's reaction to them.

"Not anymore, Harry," Ginny sighed, "And since you're _not_ missing anything anymore…I'm going to have to learn these potions."

"I still don't understand…" Harry said, clueless, "But can I learn them, too? In the Auror Corps, I'm going to need to be able to brew all sorts of potions, and a protection potion could come in handy!"

"It better _not_!" Ginny snapped, glaring at him.

"What…?" Harry looked taken aback by Ginny's sudden vitriol.

"Harry…" Hermione said softly, reaching over to gently pat his hand, "They're protection potions for _girls_."

"Huh?"

"Birth control!" Ginny yelled, once again hiding her face in her hands.

Harry's eyes widened and his mouth flapped open and closed, making him look quite like a black-haired trout. His shocked and frightened emerald eyes traveled from Ginny to Hermione to Mrs. Weasley and back again as he tried to grasp what had been said.

"I…uh…I need to go!" Harry jumped up out of his seat so fast the chair toppled over backwards. Without taking the time to right the upturned chair, Harry bolted from the kitchen and up the stairs to the safety of the attic bedroom.

For the first time Harry realized he was alone in a house full of women. It had been that way before, but until now, when they were downstairs in the kitchen brewing birth control potions, it hadn't been brought into such sharp relief. Before it had been him and Ginny and Mrs. Weasley…now, it was _them_ and _him_. He hadn't felt so alone and isolated in a while.

"I need to get out of here," Harry said to himself. He quickly changed out of his pajamas, grabbed his wand, spun around on the spot and with a _crack _he was gone.

**-- End Chapter 29 --**

**Author's End Notes: **Where'd Harry go? I dunno...I haven't written that part yet!! Let me know what you thought of the chapter. Next chapter? The Flat above the Shop!

* * *


	30. Bubble, Bubble, Toil and Trouble

**Author's Notes: **First of all, let me apologize for the lateness of Chapter 30. Thanks to the remnants of Hanna working her way up the Eastern Seaboard, a bloody powerline was knocked off the side of my house by one of her 50 mph wind gusts. That bitch!! This means that I had no power for quite some time today...and so I could not log onto the Internet. The power is still partially out...but I'm managing to post this, finally.

**Edinburgh Love**, **Ann Malfoy**, **Cantletharrygo**, **CutewithAcapital-Q**, **fatyellowrat**, **Avanell**, **Dizzy0305**, **katie1985**, **Elytha**, **Trude**, **mugglemama**, **emmy1124**, **Emma.Jane-HPfan**, **Moony3005**, **IsI Wisi**, **Lady Anja**, **embergrl9010**, **the written princess**, **MissFinnegan**, **Tiffany M**, **kareem33**, **randomguy1517**, **Shlesha**, **ronniemione**,** sarah-keyko**, **not for lack of trying**, **Emm04**, **Jacob's-One-Girl**, **Ravenhaired2**, and **Nosta82**, **Aly-Cat 101**, **EnglishGirlVerity**,** marauders rox**, **Lane Joey**, **allenterrill**, **skippyboo**, **Larelles**, **kellymc1**, **xxafterglowxx**, **screamxheart**, **zsdvnn**, **Foxy-Steph**, **Kirsty-Luan**, and** marvelous-fanwriter** are all my reviewers, and each and every one of them is uh-MAY-zing!

"Aftermath" is rated M for language and naughty stuff

**Disclaimer:** JKR owns the whole kit and kaboodle.

* * *

"Aftermath"

Chapter 30 -- Bubble, Bubble, Toil and Trouble

"Now remember…you have to crush the garlic clove and the stem of the devil's dung _together_ so their essence is thoroughly mixed before you can add it to the potion base," Mrs. Weasley said, demonstrating the technique to the girls in front of her, crushing the herbs using a stone mortar and pestle.

Molly Weasley, Ginny Weasley, and Hermione Granger were in the kitchen of the Burrow seated around a metal cauldron that was partially filled with a bubbling purple liquid…the base for the birth control potion Molly was teaching the girls to brew. The book _The Healer's Helpmate_ was propped open on the counter, and Mrs. Weasley was consulting it from time-to-time.

"I should really pick up a copy of that book," Hermione said looking at the careworn copy of the large tome on the counter, "I imagine Flourish & Blotts would have it."

"It's an invaluable resource, dear," Mrs. Weasley said as she looked to the next step of the potion. She had never had a reason to brew such a potion before, so unlike many of the cures and remedies and concoctions within the book, Molly was unfamiliar with the steps involved, "You really should get a copy if you're going to have a family of your own one day."

"I thought we were trying to _prevent_ Hermione from having her own family," Ginny quipped, nudging Hermione who slapped her arm playfully.

"She _did_ say _one day_, Gin," Hermione said smiling exasperatedly at her friend.

"Exactly, dear," Molly agreed, smiling, "One day when she and your brother are married, with a house of their own, and some beautiful little children running around…a book like this comes in quite useful."

"Especially if Ron's gonna teach your kids to ride a broom and play Quidditch!" Ginny laughed, "Mum had to patch him up so much when Bill and Charlie were teaching him to play out in the grove that by the time she was done with him he looked like a mummy in one of those tombs we saw in Egypt."

The three women shared a chuckle at the image of little Ron all scuffed and bruised, wrapped in bandages from head to foot. Once the laughter died down, Molly added the mixed essence of the garlic and devil's dung.

"Next, you add four whole juniper berries," the older woman said, pointing at the purplish-black _berries_ attached to a sprig of evergreen branch in front of Ginny, "Four of them Ginny…if you don't mind."

Ginny pulled the four juniper berries off the piece of branch and tossed them into the cauldron. The liquid _popped_ and _hissed_ and turned black. "Oops!" Ginny squeaked sheepishly.

"No-no, Ginny-dear," Molly said soothingly, "That's supposed to happen."

"Now we add some bark from the alder, mayflower, and white birch trees that have been steeped in a solution of powdered duck's foot."

The three women wrinkled their noses at the smell of those ingredients. They were glad once they were securely in the cauldron (turning the bubbling solution blue) and the smell had eventually cleared from the air thanks in no small part to an Air Freshening spell Molly cast.

"It's time for the final ingredient," Mrs. Weasley announced, pointing to a bowl in front of Hermione where a blob of fungus sat, "A single pumpkin seed inserted into a wad of rye smut."

Hermione picked up the bowl, pushed a pumpkin seed into the fungus and then dumped it all into the elixir, causing it to stop bubbling. The two younger women looked surprised, but a signal from Mrs. Weasley told them things were going as planned.

"Now it must be stirred twenty-five times in a figure-eight motion with a spoon of pure silver."

"That's a bit much, isn't it?" Ginny groaned as she watched her mother begin the figure-eight motion with the large, silver stirring spoon.

"There must be some cause for it, Ginny," Hermione replied as she watched her friend's mother diligently stirring the blue solution until it was a light, sapphire blue and began to emit steam. The color of the liquid reminded her of Ron's eyes and she smiled.

After the twenty-fifth figure-eight with the silver spoon, the sapphire colored solution began to fizz like the carbonated soda beverages Hermione was seldom allowed to partake of as a child. Her dentist parents were very strict about such things when she was growing up, only becoming slightly less strict now that she had reached adulthood.

"The potion must be allowed to cool overnight," Molly said, "And in the morning we can bottle it up. The amount we made should produce about six months' worth of potions for the two of you."

"You really want me to have this stuff, Mum?" Ginny asked, looking suspiciously at her mother, "Isn't that like you telling me it's okay for me to sha--…"

"Please don't finish that sentence, Ginny," Molly said, holding up a hand to stop her daughter, "I am giving the potion to you, and showing you how to make it for yourselves, because you will be leaving in a few months, and I will no longer be able to look out for you…for either of you. You'll be off on your own, making your own decisions, and I want you to be smart and be safe when you make those decisions. Recent events have shown me that it's only a matter of time before you…take that last step away from childhood and into womanhood."

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said with a shy smile, "I really do appreciate what you're doing."

"If your mother were a witch, dear, she'd be the one to do it," Molly smiled, patting the girl's hand, "And since she can't, I felt it was _my_ duty…"

"As my _foster_ mother?" Hermione asked, blushing.

Molly smiled, feeling a tear prick at the corner of her eye. She had loved Hermione as if she were her second daughter for a few years now, and to know that the young woman felt a similar fondness for her made her very happy. She reached out and gently caressed Hermione's cheek, both women blushing slightly.

"A mother has a responsibility to her daughters…to keep them safe," Molly said with a smile, "And I take that responsibility very seriously."

"So, if you're my _sister_, Hermione," Ginny said with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, "How creepy is it that you're dating _our_ brother, Ron?"

"Ginny…!" Mrs. Weasley huffed at her daughter's absurd and slightly disgusting suggestion.

"Well, _sis_," Hermione replied, mockingly, "You're doing the same thing! Harry's been an adopted Weasley far longer than I have!"

"Eww! Okay, I want to stop now," Ginny said, making a face, "That'll teach me to try and match wits with the smartest witch in all of Britain!"

The three women laughed as they cleaned up the mess they made during the potion lesson. Molly couldn't help the contented smile that crossed her face as she watched the two young women playfully banter and tease each other as they cleaned. She was quite lucky to have two such wonderful daughters.

Thinking about her children, Molly couldn't help wondering where it was that the _other_ adopted Weasley had run off to and what trouble he might be getting into all by himself.

* * *

_Crack!_

When Harry had decided to flee the Burrow in order to escape the overwhelming tide of _"lady business"_ that had engulfed the place, he really had no set plan in mind. He just wanted to escape, and he thought that Diagon Alley might be a good place to start.

The High Street wasn't very crowded yet, but then it was still early. Some of the shops hadn't even opened yet, so Harry took to window shopping, content to be anywhere doing anything that didn't involve being in a house full of women brewing birth control potions.

He sighed as he realized that this was all his fault. Mrs. Weasley was teaching Ginny and Hermione how to brew birth control potions as a reaction to finding _him_ in bed with Ginny. Had they not fallen asleep…and been discovered…together, this sort of thing wouldn't be happening.

Now…Harry assumed…Mrs. Weasley must think he's some sort of randy teenage pervert, desperate to separate her daughter from her knickers and then separate her thighs and…

"Ugh!" Harry grunted, smacking himself in the forehead. How did he always get himself into these situations?

That wasn't exactly a fair question, though, Harry realized as he stopped outside of Flourish & Blotts. He didn't just get _himself_ into this situation…he had dragged down Ginny, Hermione, and Ron along with him. It wasn't the first time, either. He'd been dragging his friends into bad situations since he was eleven years old…since he'd made his very first friend, ever…since he met Ron.

"Bloody Hell," Harry moaned, borrowing his best mate's favorite expletive, "What have I done?"

He'd thrown away his oldest friendship over a prank that went too far and some hurt feelings. Harry felt like a complete idiot, and he found that his feet had started moving away from the bookstore towards Number 93 Diagon Alley…towards Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes…and Ron.

"I'll apologize," Harry said, nodding resolutely, drawing some stares from random passersby who noticed that the Boy-Who-Lived had taken up talking to himself, "I'll apologize, and he'll forgive me. Of course he'll forgive me…it's Ron."

When Harry reached the joke shop, he suddenly found himself filled with doubt. What if Ron didn't forgive him? Only one way to find out. Harry sighed and pushed open the door to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

"Welcome, O' noble customer to our…oh…hi, Harry," George said, as he looked towards the door Harry had just entered, "What brings you here?"

"I was looking for Ron," Harry said, surveying the shop that was empty except for the two of them, "Is he about?"

George smirked, shooting Harry a quizzical look, "This wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that you two were ignoring each other at breakfast, would it?"

Harry's eyes widened and his cheeks turned pink, "You noticed that, did you?"

"Everyone noticed, Harry," George smiled, "When the Golden Trio is together, and two of them won't even look at one another, people notice. Of course, it was usually Ron and Hermione who weren't on speaking terms, not the two of _you_."

"So…is he here?" Harry asked again.

"He's in the store room," George said, pointing towards the door at the back of the shop, "_Bits Away_ worked so well with you, I've decided to start selling it to the public! Of course, I may need to add a disclaimer or two. Harry…I don't suppose you'd be willing to lend your likeness to a display advertising the product, would you? Harry…?"

George looked for Harry, but he had already gone back towards the store room. The devilish Weasley smiled as he took Harry's lack of response as a _yes_ and was already planning a grand display featuring the Boy-Who-Lived.

Ron was pulling a dusty box out of a corner of the store room when he heard the door open and close. He assumed it was his brother, since there was no logical reason for anyone else to be wandering around the back of the shop. "George, considering all the problems this stuff caused, are you sure you want to actually _sell it_ to people? Personally, I think you should destroy the stuff…no bloke should have to go through _that_."

"Is that so?" Harry stood with his arms crossed, watching Ron.

At the sound of Harry's voice, the redhead whirled around in surprise. He had expected his brother, not his best mate. His blue eyes lit up and a smile tugged at his lips until he remembered…Harry didn't _want_ his friendship anymore. The light in his eyes died, and the smile quickly faded.

"If you're looking for George, he's out in the shop…"

"Actually, I was looking for you," Harry said, looking down at his feet, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"What for?" Ron said, putting the box of _Bits Away_ jars down and folding his arms across his chest. This was his preferred stance when an argument might ensue. He'd start off like this, arms folded, jaw set, eyes steely with determination. It's only after the fight started that he'd get out of control – screaming, waving his hands around, face and ears blood red.

"I thought we could talk," Harry said, looking up.

"Did you apologize to Hermione?" Ron asked, narrowing his eyes. If Harry said _yes_, Ron would hear him out…if he said _no_, there was nothing Harry could say that he would want to hear.

"Uh…no. I kind of forgot," Harry admitted, "See…after you left --…"

"Save it," Ron said, curtly, "I don't wanna hear it."

Ron picked the box back up and brushed past Harry, heading back out into the shop.

"That went well," Harry sighed. He followed morosely behind Ron, hoping he might listen to him if he kept at it. Harry found his redheaded mate at the front of the shop, placing _Bits Away_ jars on a colorful display shelf, "Ron, listen…I'm sorry."

Ron stood up and walked purposefully towards Harry and poked him in the chest with a long, lanky finger, "Not to me…_apologize_ to Hermione!"

"I will…I swear!" Harry said, trying to say what he wanted to say before Ron shut him out again, "As soon as I go back to the Burrow…but first --…"

"No."

"Huh?" Harry looked at him as Ron once again stopped him.

"I'm sure I'm being thick-headed or obnoxious or overbearing or any of the other things you said about me last night," Ron said, his voice full of spite, "But there is absolutely _nothing_ I want to hear come out of your mouth until you've apologized to Hermione."

Before Harry could open his mouth, Ron turned on his heal and stormed to the back of the shop and through the door into the store room, slamming it shut behind him.

"Bit stubborn, that one," George said to Harry, looking at the door at the back of the shop.

"Just a bit, yeah," Harry sighed.

"Don't worry, Harry, ickle Ronnie will come around," George said with a smile, "One way or another. In fact, meet me at the flat upstairs at Half-Six tonight, and we'll see if we can't get you two crazy kids back together."

"Why do I get the feeling I'm going to regret this?" Harry asked.

"Harry, my lad, you don't give me near enough credit!!"

* * *

Upon leaving Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, Harry continued walking around Diagon Alley for a few hours. He wanted to give Mrs. Weasley and the girls time to finish up with their lesson on birth control potions. Merlin only knew what other sort of ghastly _lady's issues_ were being discussed and dealt with in his absence.

In the hopes of cheering himself up, Harry stopped off at Quality Quidditch Supplies once it opened. He hadn't had a broom of his own since trying to escape Voldemort and his Death Eaters the day before his birthday last year. He'd never gotten around to replacing his Firebolt…never really had the time, but now…

Slowly moving past the professional Quidditch robes (including the Chudley Cannons robes Ron had always wanted), the gloves, pads, and other various gear, Harry browsed the racks of brooms, until he came to the display case enclosing the Firebolt. Of all the brooms in the shop, only the Firebolt had no price tag. It bore only a tag that read _Price available upon request_; in other words, if you have to ask, you can't afford it.

Harry _could_ afford it…his parents had left him a small fortune, and he was the sole heir to Sirius Black's estate…but he wasn't sure he _wanted_ to buy it. His old Firebolt had been a gift from his godfather, Sirius. It had sentimental value…it meant something to him. Were he to replace his lost broom by buying another Firebolt, it wouldn't mean anything to him…it would just be a broom.

"But what a broom," Harry muttered as he looked at it in the case.

He would need a broom as an Auror, and certainly the better the broom, the better his chances of getting out alive if the life-or-death situation he found himself in required him to be flying a broom. He imagined himself in an airborne duel with a dark wizard…but not nearly as chaotic as the massive battle that took place in the skies over Surrey when he left the Dursleys for the final time.

"I'm going to need all the help I can get."

"Can I help you?" the clerk asked, noticing the young man ogling the Firebolt. Suddenly the clerk's eyes grew wide as he recognized the scar on the young man's forehead, "Oh my giddy aunt! Harry Potter!! This is indeed an honor!"

Harry rolled his eyes. He wasn't comfortable with this kind of attention, but it went hand-in-hand with being the Boy-Who-Lived…the Chosen One. If only they knew how much he hated the attention, how he would have much preferred an anonymous existence.

"Did you wish to have a look at the Firebolt?" the clerk asked with obvious glee. A sale of this magnitude would make his year, "Certainly someone of your caliber must have only the best when it comes to their choice in brooms."

Harry couldn't resist, "How much is it?"

* * *

Ron's workday proceeded achingly slowly after Harry's visit. Ron knew he was being a bit of an arse, and was too hard on Harry, but dammit(!), Hermione deserved an apology from him, and Boy-Who-Lived or not, Harry was going to give her one. Seeing Harry had taken the wind out of Ron's sails, and he dragged through the rest of the day. When Six O'clock finally rolled around, Ron could not be happier to get done with work.

He and George were supposed to be checking out the flat above the shop, but first Ron needed to wait for Hermione to show up. He really wanted to get her opinion of the place since he hoped she'd be spending a lot of time at the flat with him. She showed up less than five minutes later with a spring in her step and an excited smile on her face.

"Are you ready to check out your new home, Ron?" Hermione asked as she greeted her boyfriend with a sweet peck on her cheek.

"Yeah, sure," Ron said halfheartedly.

"You kids go on up and check out the place," George suggested cheerily, "I'll be along directly after I finish up some paperwork."

Ron nodded and took Hermione's hand. He led her through the store room and out through the back door of the shop into a narrow courtyard. Next to a large rubbish bin, a set of steps led up to the flat above the shop. Letting Hermione go first, Ron climbed the steps to the landing outside the flat.

A sign next to the door read:

_#93-A Diagon Alley_

_Fred Weasley_

_George Weasley_

Ron frowned when he saw the names on the door. Hermione saw what had attracted Ron's attention and she reached out and rubbed a comforting hand in circles across his back.

"Do you think we should change it?" she asked softly, not wanting to see her boyfriend or his brother feel any more pain at the death of their brother, "Maybe erase it, or just leave his name…or replace Fred's name with yours?"

Ron shot her a look that was sad, angry, and fearful all at once, "I can't replace Fred."

"Oh, Ron, I'm not suggesting that! I'm just…"

"I know, 'Mione, here…" Ron touched the name card with his wand and the writing changed.

_#93-A Diagon Alley_

_The Weasley Brothers_

She smiled at the changes he'd made. It was subtle yet descriptive. No one was being replaced, either figuratively or literally, so the changes would undoubtedly go over well. "I like it, Ron; very nicely done."

He smiled and turned his attention and his wand to the door, "I'm not sure what to expect in there…it's been closed off for months now…ever since Fred and George went into hiding with the family. Who knows what's waiting for us behind that door."

"Oh, Ron…honestly!" she scolded, chuckling at him slightly, "There's nothing to be afraid of behind that door."

Smirking at her, Ron cast the spell to unseal the door. He opened it and although his gentleman's instincts said to let Hermione go first, he didn't want something happening to her, so he led the way. The very first thing they noticed was the smell permeating the air. It was the foulest, most disgusting thing either one had ever smelled in their entire lives.

The smell was strongest leading back towards the kitchen. Feeling brave, and covering their noses as best they could, Ron and Hermione entered the kitchen and nearly fainted. Food had been left out and thrown away half-eaten…and something large appeared to be moving in the corner, under an old newspaper covered in coffee grounds; it was obvious that Fred and George had left this place in a hurry.

"Ugh! You _cannot_ live like this, Ron," Hermione said, having pulled the collar of her shirt up over her lower face, making her voice sound muffled, "I _refuse_ to let you!"

Hermione took out her wand and cast a quick Banishing charm making the sloppy, disgusting mess disappear from the flat once and for all. That done, Hermione then cast an Air Freshening spell to get rid of the foul odor. Soon the flat was smelling quite nicely.

The toured the rest of the flat: besides the eat-in kitchen, there were two moderately-sized bedrooms, both larger than Ron's bedroom at the Burrow, a sitting room, and a bathroom. The place would need a coat of paint and a nice spring cleaning, but it looked like exactly the sort of place a young man could start his life out on his own (provided you discount his flat-mate).

"So, what do you think, love?" Ron asked as they sat down together on the couch, sending a cloud of dust up into the air from the compression of the cushions.

"Once we get it clean, I think it will be nice," Hermione replied with a smile, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Thank Merlin for magic!" he sighed, "I'd hate to have to do this the Muggle way."

"You mean you're going to take the easy way out?" she replied, in mock-surprise.

"'Mione, I love you and your Muggle parents…but yes. I'm taking the _easy_ way out," Ron said, leaning his head against hers, "After all, it'd be a waste to _know_ magic and not _use_ magic."

Hermione planted a kiss on his cheek and squeezed his knee, "I know, Ron…I was only teasing."

"Speaking of teasing," Ron said, looking at his watch, "Where the bloody Hell is George?"

"I don't know, Ron," Hermione sighed exasperatedly, "But mind your language."

Ron was just about to say something when there was a sudden _crash_ of noise and a flash of light from outside. Ron and Hermione jumped to their feet and rushed out the front door to the landing overlooking the courtyard where they were witnesses to a sight they hoped they'd never see again.

Harry Potter was on the ground, his clothing tattered, his back up against the large rubbish bin beside the steps leading to the upstairs flat. His wand lay on the other side of the small courtyard, directly under the foot of a man dressed in black robes wearing a hood and a mask…a Death Eater!

Hermione froze, grabbing Ron's arm in a death-grip, "Ron…!"

He could hear the fear in her voice, and if her were honest, he could feel the cold trickle of fear running down his back, but it was soon replaced with a burst of rage. This was it. This was the reason Ron wanted to be an Auror…to protect the people he loved.

"You're a fool, Harry Potter," the Death Eater hissed, aiming his black wand directly at Harry's heart, "To think you could escape the wrath of the Dark Lord's followers!!"

Ron pulled away from Hermione's grasp and started down the steps in a run. He jumped the last few steps to the ground.

"Say hello to You-Know-Who…in Hell!! Avada Kadavra!!"

"NO!!" Ron threw himself in front of Harry as a flash of green exploded out of the Death Eaters wand, hitting Ron instead of Harry.

"Ron! Wait!!" Hermione yelled running down the steps.

"What the Hell?" Ron was thoroughly confused as he looked down at himself and instead of being dead he was covered in a green, slimy, sticky substance. He was further confused…and angered more than slightly…when Harry _and_ the Death Eater both broke out laughing.

"You-Know-Who, Ron! You-Know-Who!!" Hermione yelled, as she caught up to Ron, grabbing his arm to help him up out of Harry's lap, "Death Eaters don't call Voldemort _You-Know-Who_! Do they, George?"

"George?!" Ron got up and looked across the courtyard to where the Death Eater was taking off his hood and mask to reveal the laughing, smiling face of the proprietor of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes himself, "You bloody prat!! What are you playing at?"

"He's just trying to prove a point, Ron," Harry said getting up and clapping Ron on the shoulder, "You threw yourself in front of the Killing Curse for me, mate…guess that means you still care."

"Bloody Hell, Harry," Ron groaned, running a hand through his hair, inadvertently wiping slime through his ginger locks, "I never said I don't care! I was just mad that you hadn't apologized to 'Mione. I still wanted us to be friends, remember."

"I know, mate," Harry said, guiltily, "I was a right idiot last night, saying that stuff. I'm sorry, mate. As soon as I said it, I regretted it, if it's any consolation."

"Actually, Harry," Ron said, folding his arms across his slime-coated chest, "There's only _one_ thing that will be any consolation…"

"Huh?" Harry looked at Ron and then realization dawned on him, "Oh! Right! Hermione…I'm really sorry I left your knickers out for Mrs. Weasley to find…I know how upset you got because of all that, and I really feel horrible. I hope you can forgive me."

"THAT'S why you two idiots have been ignoring each other?!" Hermione asked, exasperated, "I can't believe you two!! You're such…such…BOYS!! UGH!!"

"Is that a _yes_ you'll forgive me?" Harry asked sheepishly.

"YES! I forgive you!" she finally shouted, slapping Harry and Ron each on the arm, "The next time you two get into a stupid argument, could it _please_ not be over me and my underwear?!"

"Hopefully, 'Mione, your underwear will be a secret just between you and me from now on," Ron said smirking, "So there won't _be_ any more fights about it."

"Speaking of under _where_," George cut in, changing the subject slightly, as he started to pull off his fake Death Eater robes, "I think I'd better get out from under _here_ before someone thinks I'm a real Death Eater and they send in the Aurors!"

George balled up the robes and tucked them under his arm as he started up the steps to check out the condition of the flat he'd soon be living in again, "Oh, and Ronnie…I'd wash that gunk off you as soon as possible. Supposedly it will eat through clothing, skin, and most metals if not removed quickly."

"WHAT?!" Ron started pulling at his work-robes trying to get them off and as far away from his pale skin as possible. Harry and George were both laughing, while Hermione merely rolled her eyes, "I need to get a shower! This shite's in my hair!!"

"Language, Ronald!" Hermione growled, punching him in the shoulder.

"Oww! Bloody…err…blimey, 'Mione, don't hit so hard!" Ron groaned rubbing his arm.

"Oh, come on, you big baby," Hermione sighed, grabbing his hand and following George upstairs, "You may as well shower in your new flat!!"

"Yeah, and while you're up there," Harry added, moving behind the rubbish bin to pick something up that no one had noticed before, "I can show you what I got for you at Quality Quidditch Supplies!"

Ron and Hermione turned to face Harry as he followed them up the steps. He held a shallow, rectangular box in one hand, and a brand new Firebolt in the other.

"Bloody Hell, Harry! You bought me a Firebolt?!"

**-- End Chapter 30 --**

**Author's End Notes:** I'm very angry that this didn't get posted sooner. I hope no one was sitting around waiting all day for this. If you were, I apologize.


	31. Flat Chat

**Author's Notes:** First of all, let me apologize for yesterday's fiasco once again. Thanks to the inclement weather, I had no way of typing and posting my story for most of the day, and when I did have a way to type it, I still had no Internet...hence the lateness of the hour when it was posted. The weather is still affecting things, and I only JUST got back full power (yay lights!) today.

Today's Chapter, I'm sorry to say is shorter than my recent efforts...although not as short as some of my earlier chapters. I've fallen way behind in writing thanks to yesterday's outtage, and was busting my hump to catch up. Hopefully, it's good enough, despite the shortness. At least it's not being posted at midnight!

Everybody give a round of applause to my reviewers: **Edinburgh Love**, **Ann Malfoy**, **Cantletharrygo**, **CutewithAcapital-Q**, **fatyellowrat**, **Avanell**, **Dizzy0305**, **katie1985**, **Elytha**, **Trude**, **mugglemamma**, **emmy1124**, **Emma.Jane-HPfan**, **Moony3005**, **IsI Wisi**, **Lady Anja**, **embergrl9010**, **the written princess**, **MissFinnegan**, **Tiffany M**, **kareem33**, **randomguy1517**, **Shlesha**, **ronniemione**,** sarah-keyko**, **not for lack of trying**, **Emm04**, **Jacob's-One-Girl**, **Ravenhaired2**, and **Nosta82**, **Aly-Cat 101**, **EnglishGirlVerity**,** marauders rox**, **Lane Joey**, **allenterrill**, **skippyboo**, **Larelles**, **kellymc1**, **xxafterglowxx**, **screamxheart**, **zsdvnn**, **Foxy-Steph**, **Kirsty-Luan**, and** marvelous-fanwriter**. Their words of encouragement (and when one of them yells at me in that special way she has) have kept me going and posting on a daily basis. Thanks to all of you!!

"Aftermath" is rated M for language and naughty stuff.

**Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling owns all the rights to Harry Potter and whatnot.

I'm a complete **IDIOT**! I go to all the trouble of uploadig this 2 hours ago...and then I forget to POST IT!! Ugh! I need some sleep!

* * *

**"Aftermath"**

**Chapter 31 – Flat Chat**

George Weasley moved up the flight of cast-iron steps to the landing outside the front door to his flat; he had his fake Death Eater costume balled up under his left arm, and was holding a Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes Goo-Shooting Trick Wand (1 galleon, 13 knuts brand-new!) in his hand. Now that his brilliant scheme had gotten Harry and Ron on speaking terms again, George was anxious to check out the condition of the old flat.

What he noticed first, besides the fact that Ron and Hermione had left the front door wide open when they came out to investigate the noise outside, was that the nameplate next to the door was changed. It now read:

_#93-A Diagon Alley  
The Weasley Brothers_

Obviously either Ron or Hermione had changed the old nameplate for fear of him getting upset at seeing Fred's name…as if there were any way humanly possible for George _not_ to associate the joke shop and the flat above it with his dead brother, Fred. They meant well, but they needn't treat him with kid gloves.

Sure, George was sad that his brother was gone, but he was moving on. He may never truly get over the death of Fred, but every day George was waking up and going out into the world to live his life…and he knew that _that_ is what Fred wanted for him.

Moving back to the flat was a big step for George, and it was a step that was liable to be wrought with emotional peril. This was _their_ place…his and Fred's. Coming back here…every single day would remind him of Fred…but it was a step in the right direction. Getting back out on his own was important…he couldn't live at the Burrow all his life…correction: he couldn't _hide_ at the Burrow all his life.

Living back at the flat would be tough. Every day would be a challenge, but George came prepared; he brought a safety net. Ron was that safety net. He'd been too out of it to notice…too delusional, thinking Fred was still with him, to see it…but Ron had kept him together right after Fred's death. It was Ron more than anything that put George on the road to recovery…but of course no one knew it. That was just the way of things with Ron; everything he did was pushed to the background…and this was no exception.

Nobody knew how Ron had saved George from the mouth of madness…nobody but George and Fred. He doubted that even Ron knew himself. If he did, he'd never let on. That was Ron. He didn't advertise…he didn't brag…not about the important stuff. Oh sure, put him in the middle of a room full of adoring Gryffindors, and he'll happily regale them with his latest goal-keeping successes out on the Quidditch pitch, but you ask him how he threw himself between certain death and someone he loved, and he'd blush and get all humble and want to change the subject.

This was George's way of paying Ron back for keeping him sane. Get him out of the Burrow…out from under Mum's apron…and on his own. Help him become a man…or at least teach him how to _live_ like a man. Get him out into the world and teach him to be self-sufficient…just as he and Fred had been (the odd meal eaten at the Burrow notwithstanding).

George sighed wistfully and ran a finger across the nameplate next to the door. _The Weasley Brothers_…ambiguous yet descriptive, because George knew it wasn't just George and Ron Weasley here at the flat…Fred was here, too…just in spirit, maybe, but perhaps that was enough.

George entered the flat and immediately knew that something was amiss. That smell – the one that Fred had likened to a cross between month-old goat cheese wrapped in a dirty Quidditch sock liberally coated with Professor Snape's hair grease – was gone. George took a deep breath…the smell was most definitely gone.

He made his way into the small eat-in kitchen. He recalled the last time he'd been there…he and Fred were eating breakfast when word came down that they needed to leave right away. Food had been left out to spoil and yet…the kitchen was clean. George shook his head and smiled. This had _Hermione_ written all over it.

"Keep her around, Ronnie, she's going to be very useful," George quipped as he headed off towards the bedrooms. The two bedrooms stood on either side of the hallway that led off from the sitting room. George's bedroom was right next to the bathroom and Ron's…well…his bedroom still had Fred's name on the small brass plague on the door.

_The Weasley Brothers_ wouldn't cut it this time. George took out his wand…his real wand…and looked up to the heavens, "Forgive me for this, brother-dear." George tapped the brass door plaque and _Fred's_ name suddenly disappeared and was replaced with _Ronnie's_. George smiled. That would do. It was descriptive enough to let Ron know where he slept, but still childish enough to get on his nerves a bit.

"Yes, that will do quite nicely."

George moved across to his bedroom and entered. Everything was just as he left it…which meant he would definitely need to get that large pile of dirty clothes at the foot of his bed off to the Burrow so his Mum could wash them. He smiled broadly. Sometimes it was hard work being self-sufficient.

* * *

"Bloody Hell, Harry! You bought me a Firebolt?!" Ron exclaimed, looking at the shiny new broom slung over his best mate's shoulder.

Harry's eyes widened as he glanced from the Firebolt to the box in his hands to Ron and back again, "Ron, are you mental?! The Firebolt's for me…_this_ is for you," he handed Ron the box.

"Oh…" Ron sounded a bit disappointed, looking at the beautiful new broom, but then turned his attention to the box, "Err…thanks, Harry. You really didn't have to get me anything."

"Well, think of it as a late birthday present," Harry said, smiling, "You didn't have much of a birthday this year, what with the three of us out hunting for Horcruxes."

"Cheers, mate," Ron said, taking the box. He was about to open it when Hermione tugged on his arm.

"Why don't you open it up in the flat," she suggested, "That way we can sit and chat like reasonable people."

"Since when are _we_ reasonable people?" Ron laughed, causing Hermione to roll her eyes.

Bowing to Hermione's _reasonableness_, the Golden Trio made their way up into the flat and sat on the dusty couch in the sitting room, Harry and Ron on either end, with Hermione in between them. Ron started to open the box while his two best friends looked on.

"I still say you didn't have to get me anything," Ron said, glancing over at Harry.

"Oh, will you just open the bloody thing already, mate?!" Harry laughed.

Taking a deep breath, Ron pulled off the lid and peered into the box. A sea of orange and black met his gaze. "Cannons robes!" Ron exclaimed, jumping up off the couch and pulling the contents out of the box and holding the orange-and-black robes out in front of him, so he could examine them completely, "I've wanted these for…well…forever!"

"_Official_ Cannons robes," Harry corrected him, beaming up at his friend as he held the robes to his body as if trying to see how he'd look in them.

"What do you think, 'Mione?" Ron asked, excitedly, looking to his girlfriend.

"It's really nice, Ron," she said, smiling. She couldn't help thinking how cute he looked when he got all excited, like a little boy on Christmas morning, "That was a really sweet thing you did, Harry. Look how happy he is."

"It was nothing really," Harry said, waving off Hermione, "The Cannons are such rubbish, the shop was giving those away free with every purchase."

"WHAT?!" Ron turned to face Harry, his eyes blazing. His ears were already turning pink as he prepared to defend his favorite Quidditch team from his best mate's insults.

"I'm kidding, Ron!" Harry laughed. Hermione, too, was laughing.

Ron blushed and grumbled something unintelligible at his two best friends as he sloppily folded up the robes and tried to get them to fit back inside the box. When she saw him failing miserably, Hermione quickly interceded, folding the orange robes and placing them neatly in the box they came from.

"Thanks, 'Mione," Ron said, smiling at his girlfriend who beamed up at him. He then turned to Harry, "And thanks a lot, mate. You really shouldn't have!"

"Ron, you wanted those robes as long as I've known you," Harry said, trying to quell his friend's protests over the gift, "Besides…you're willing to throw yourself in front of a Killing Curse for me…getting you some Quidditch team robes is the least I can do!"

Ron was about to open his mouth to protest, when Hermione stopped him. She was sniffing the air, her nose wrinkling and a funny look crossing her face, "Does anybody else smell burning hair?"

"My hair!!" Ron yelled, remembering the green goo that had come out of George's wand, "I need to get a shower, now!!"

Ron rushed off down the hall to the bathroom, cursing George and his idiotic wand as he went. Harry and Hermione couldn't help laughing at him…he looked quite silly running down the hall with his hands in his hair. He slammed the bathroom door shut, and soon the shower could be heard running.

Once Ron was out of sight and the laughter died down, Harry looked over at Hermione with a serious expression on his young face. "Hermione…can I talk to you about something?"

"Of course, Harry," she replied, moving down the couch a bit so she could turn to face him, "What is it?"

"About this morning…what you, and Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley were doing…that was because she caught me in bed with Ginny, isn't it? She thinks I'm some kind of randy perv trying to get into her daughter's knickers, doesn't she?"

Hermione sighed, "That's part of it, I think, Harry. Oh, not the _randy perv_ bit, you prat…but the rest of it. I think the whole situation…you and Ginny…my knickers…the note…it was all a wake-up call to Mrs. Weasley that Ginny and Ron and you and I aren't little children anymore. We've grown up, and sooner or later, we're going to start expressing our feelings in an adult manner towards the people we love. Knowing that, she wanted to make sure we were all safe…and that when we do start _expressing_ things, we're protected from…_accidents_."

"Weren't you embarrassed?" he asked, since clearly he was, "I mean, she's your boyfriend's mum and she's teaching you about birth control."

"It wasn't my _first_ birth control conversation, Harry. My parents are dentists, Harry, but oral hygiene is not the only thing they've ever lectured me on," she said, wincing slightly as she thought back to the summer before Third Year when she had the uncomfortable _Boys Only Want One Thing, and Good Girls Don't Give It to Them_ lecture with her mum, as well as the _I'm Much too Young to be Grandpappy Granger_ lecture from her dad, "They used to send me to school with condoms! Can you imagine?!"

"That must have been embarrassing," Harry said, trying to hide his smile, "What did you do with them? I mean…_you_ didn't use them, did you?"

"Of course not!" she snapped, a little insulted that Harry would think that she might have done _that_ while at Hogwarts, "Who would I _possibly_ have used them with?"

"Well…" Harry smirked as he started naming names, "Terry Boot, from Ravenclaw fancied you; Seamus would've given you a tumble; don't forget Cormac McLaggen; then of course, there was Ron, if you two would have just admitted your feelings for each other; and…well…Viktor."

Hermione scowled, reaching over and smacking Harry in the back of the head, and then said indignantly, "Only _one_ of those boys would I have _ever_ considered!"

"Seamus, was it?" he replied, laughing as he ducked another slap from Hermione. When she stopped trying to hit him, and he stopped laughing, Harry asked her once more, "So what _did_ you do with all those condoms?"

"Well, it's funny you should mention Seamus…" Hermione said blushing.

"No! You slept with Seamus?!" Harry looked agog at her, completely stunned…which is why he didn't duck when she hit him upside the head again.

"You're not _really_ this big a twit, are you Harry?! I gave them to Lavender," Hermione explained, tugging at a loose thread on her jeans, "And _she_ slept with Seamus. Of course, I stopped giving them to her during Sixth Year."

"That's funny," Harry chuckled, "I'd have thought that's when you'd _most_ want her protected. I mean, could you imagine Lavender with a little redheaded ba--…" Harry stopped what he was saying as he received a death glare from Hermione.

"You're _not_ funny, Potter," she growled.

"Okay, okay…sorry," he said, putting his hands up in front of him.

"Perhaps I should have given some of them to Ginny…" Hermione started coldly.

Harry nodded, smiling, "You should have."

"During our Fifth Year," she finished, glaring at him…waiting for him to get her meaning.

"But I wasn't dating her then…HEY!!" he glared back at her, finally getting her meaning, "Okay, you made your point, Hermione. Talking about _their_ exes is _not_ a funny subject."

"Exactly," she nodded stiffly, her mouth drawn tight, "Besides, Ron assured me that he never slept with _Her_."

"Oh. Well…uh…do you know if Ginny…uh…_you know_…with Michael Corner or Dean?" he blushed, not knowing how to ask the question now that this subject had been brought up.

"You mean, she never told you?" Hermione raised her eyebrows, surprised.

"Uh…well…I never asked…I mean…how do you…?" Harry waved his hands around, seemingly lost for words.

Hermione grabbed his hand and looked into his eyes, "If it's really something you're concerned about, you just _ask_ her."

"I guess…I mean…now that she's on…_that potion_…I guess the subject will come up," Harry sighed.

"Well, Harry, the potion's a precaution…just like the spell," Hermione said, trying to make him feel less awkward.

"There's a _spell_, too?!" Harry exclaimed, wondering just how much there _was_ to this birth control business.

"There's several, actually," Hermione stated matter-of-factly, "Of course, Mrs. Weasley can't teach _those_ to Ginny until after her birthday in August. But she did teach me."

"And you're not embarrassed? I'd be mortified if Mr. Weasley tried to teach me something like that!"

"That _would_ be funny," she said, sniggering at the image, "But with Mrs. Weasley…yes, when she first brought it up, I was embarrassed…but then, I decided to look at it as just another subject that I wanted and needed to learn."

"I guess that's one way to look at it," Harry nodded, "So Mrs. Weasley's alright with you and Ron having sex?"

"I never said _that_!" Hermione chuckled, "I'm sure she'd prefer it if we were all eleven again…just friends with no romantic or sexual feelings for each other. But she knows that we're in love, and that Ron and I will eventually be expressing that love. She knows we're in love and plan on having a future together…and I'm sure she'd prefer it if we waited until we're married…but I don't think I can wait that long…Ron is just so…mmmmm…"

"Okay! Enough!!" Harry covered his ears, not wanting to hear more, "This conversation is officially over!!"

"That's a shame," said a voice from the hallway leading to the bedrooms, "It was just getting _really_ interesting!!" George came walking into the sitting room with a huge Cheshire grin on his face, "I'm sure Ron would just love to hear what Hermione really thinks of him."

"What Hermione thinks of who?" Ron asked, coming out of the bathroom, briskly drying his hair with a towel, "What's everyone talking about?"

"Shagging, apparently," George said gleefully, "Hermione's ready to shag you rotten, Ronnie, but Harry doesn't seem ready to take the plunge with our ickle sister."

Ron moved over and sat down next to Hermione giving her a kiss. He was dressed in the same clothes he'd had on under his work-robes, but the glowing, freshly scrubbed look of his skin, the wetness of his hair, and the freshly cleaned scent he gave off left no doubt that he'd showered thoroughly, instead of just washing his hair. Hermione snuggled into him, enjoying his scent and the warmth of his body as he wrapped an arm around her.

"Well, if he's not ready, they shouldn't do it," Ron replied, looking from George to Harry to Hermione, "People should only do that when they're _both_ ready."

"So, if _I_ wasn't ready, you wouldn't try to get me to do it?" Hermione asked, quirking an eyebrow at him.

"Exactly," he said, nodding.

She folded her arms and gave him a _yeah right_ kind of look, "What happened to having a month to get me to…_let_…_you_…_in_…?"

"Let you in?" Harry repeated, looking at Ron who rolled his eyes.

George started laughing raucously at Harry, "In her knickers, Harrykins! Let. Him. In. Her. KNICKERS!!"

Hermione blushed and Ron glared at his brother. George just took too much pleasure in embarrassing Ron.

"So…you guys are going to do it by the end of the month?" Harry asked, looking back and forth between his two friends.

"We'll do it when Hermione's ready," Ron said, reaching over and squeezing her knee affectionately, "Whether it's a month from now or a year from now," he shrugged, "I can wait. I mean, it took us seven bloody years to kiss! So, as long as it doesn't take us seven _more_ years to shag, I'll be pretty happy!"

"Ron…" Hermione reached over and grabbed his arm.

"I know, watch my language," Ron sighed, turning to look at her.

"Actually…I was going to say _I love you_," she smiled, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek, "But now that you mention it…watch your language."

"Bloody Hell!"

"RON!"

**-- End Chapter 31 --**

**

* * *

Author's End Notes:** I'm considering taking the weekends off from posting. I've posted every single day for the last 28 days. Taking a break on weekends would give me a chance to catch up on writing, and maybe get a few chapters ahead, so I'm not up til 4 every morning working on the next day's story. It's just a thought...something I'm considering. But it's not definite yet...especially since I'd feel like I was letting you down, and I hate letting people down.


	32. CatTastrophe

**Author's Notes:** So far everyone who's reviewed the last chapter has quite understanding about me wanting to take the weekends off. So, that's what I'm going to start doing. As of this coming weekend, I'll be taking two days off from posting...hopefully it will give me a chance to recharge my own personal batteries, as well as get ahead in the story, so I'm not rushing everything.

**Edinburgh Love**, **Ann Malfoy**, **Cantletharrygo**, **CutewithAcapital-Q**, **fatyellowrat**, **Avanell**, **Dizzy0305**, **katie1985**, **Elytha**, **Trude**, **mugglemamma**, **emmy1124**, **Emma.Jane-HPfan**, **Moony3005**, **IsI Wisi**, **Lady Anja**, **embergrl9010**, **the written princess**, **MissFinnegan**, **Tiffany M**, **kareem33**, **randomguy1517**, **Shlesha**, **ronniemione**,** sarah-keyko**, **not for lack of trying**, **Emm04**, **Jacob's-One-Girl**, **Ravenhaired2**, and **Nosta82**, **Aly-Cat 101**, **EnglishGirlVerity**,** marauders rox**, **Lane Joey**, **allenterrill**, **skippyboo**, **Larelles**, **kellymc1**, **xxafterglowxx**, **screamxheart**, **zsdvnn**, **Foxy-Steph**, **Kirsty-Luan**, **marvelous-fanwriter**, and** hctb** have been kind enough to review my story, and I appreciate each and every one of them. THANK YOU ALL SOOOO MUCH!!

Story rated M for language and naughty stuff.

**Disclaimer: **J.K. Rowling owns Harry and the whole lot.

* * *

**"Aftermath"**

**Chapter 32 -- Cat-Tastrophe**

During the next week, whenever they weren't working at the shop, George and Ron were busy getting the flat above the shop in shape for them to finally move in. Harry, Ginny, Hermione, and even Lee Jordan, Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson, and Katie Bell were all recruited at various stages to help out. Ron found that Hermione was especially good at helping him pack.

By Friday, the flat was more than just habitable (as it had been during Fred and George's days), it actually looked like a home (whoever would have thought that Alicia, Angelina, and Katie knew about decorating as well as Quidditch?) and the Weasley Brothers were finally moved in.

George smiled as the dark-skinned young woman conjured a number of cozy and colorful throw pillows that completed the look of the couch just perfectly, "What do you know, Angelina…you _are_ a girl!" George laughed, mocking Ron for one of his more famous row-starting moments with Hermione.

"Well spotted, George!" Angelina snarked playfully, picking up what he was lying down, and going right along with the jab at Ron.

"I always _knew_ Hermione was a girl…I just didn't think she _cared_ that I knew," Ron grumbled from across the room where he was Levitating an end-table into place for the fifth time, "Katie…how many times do I have to move this bloody table?!"

"Until you've got it where it looks _right_," Katie Bell snapped, standing back and gazing at the placement of the table, between two stuffed chairs, with a critical eye, "Nope…move it back."

"Bloody Hell, woman!!" Ron shouted in aggravation, "It's a sodding table! It's fine like it is."

Ron stormed out of the sitting room without seeing the evil glares he was getting from Katie Bell. He made his way down the hall to his bedroom. He'd left Hermione in there about an hour ago after she'd asked for the chance to decorate it without assistance…or an audience. He knocked once on the door as a warning and then opened it up, stepping into his bedroom.

The blue paint on the walls was a refreshing change from his bedroom back at the Burrow. He was a big fan of the color orange…especially Chudley Cannons orange…but after spending so many years inside that small, orange room, it was time for a change.

Not TOO much of a change, though…his Chudley Cannons bedspread was still proudly covering his bed. In fact, despite the blue on the walls, the room still eagerly displayed his love of the worst Quidditch team in the entire League. His old Cannons posters from his room at the Burrow adorned his new walls…a little faded, a little wrinkled, and a little frayed around the edges, they were old familiar friends making this strange place feel like home. The jewel in the crown of Ron's Chudley Cannons décor was the glass and wood display case that hung above his bed which held the official Cannons robes Harry had bought him the other day.

Once he managed to take his eyes off the Quidditch posters, Ron focused on Hermione and was not the least bit surprised at what she was doing: placing books neatly…and quite possibly in alphabetical order…on the bookshelf next to the window.

Ron reclined back on his bed, propping himself up on his elbows. He watched Hermione working, unsure if she even realized he was there, smiling the whole time at how methodical she was. Hermione would bend down (inadvertently giving Ron an excellent view of her round bottom), reverently pick up one of the books as if it was the rarest, most valuable tome in existence (even when it was something as mundane as Ron's copy of _Flying with the _C_annons_), carefully wipe the book down with a dust-cloth (making even the dullest book shine like new), read the title of the book, and then carefully place it in its pre-ordained slot on the bookshelf.

"So, decorating my room was just a pretense to play librarian all by yourself, then?" he asked with a smirk, watching her jump as she had, in fact, not heard him come in.

"Ron! You startled me!" she snapped, her hand moving to her chest, her heart racing from the surprise, "Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"Forgetting for the moment that this _is_ my bedroom," Ron quipped, sitting up, "I _did_ knock on the door before I came in."

"Aren't you even going to say anything about the room?" she asked, scowling at him as she waved her arms to indicate the job she did decorating, "I worked hard in here."

"I see that," Ron nodded, "And it looks bloody…err…_quite_ amazing. I especially like the blue."

"I thought that would be a nice change from your bedroom at the Burrow," Hermione smiled, sitting down next to him on the bed, "I didn't know if you'd outgrown your Cannons posters or not, so I put them up just in case."

"You don't outgrow the Cannons, love," he smirked, kissing her on the cheek.

"Well, what about your action figures and your _Martin Miggs: the Mad Muggle_ comic books?" she asked, smirking back at him as she pointed to a pair of boxes sitting in the corner, "Do you outgrow _them_?"

"Err…well…yeah, I suppose you do," Ron stammered, a bit embarrassed, "Although _The Mad Muggle_ is, at least, reading and I thought you'd approve of that."

"Oh, Ron, reading the ingredients in a box of cereal is _technically_ reading as well," Hermione said, rolling her eyes, "That doesn't mean it's mentally stimulating. Since you've outgrown them, I'll just banish them to the rubbish bin then."

She took out her wand and aimed it at the boxes, but Ron grabbed her hand and stopped her.

"No! I mean…err…" he blushed to the tips of his ears as Hermione shot him an amused look, like she'd been expecting just that exact reaction, "You've done so much already…I'll take care of them."

"Oh, it's no trouble, Ron," Hermione said moving her wand back up, "Just a swish and a flick and --…"

"Bloody Hell, Hermione!" Ron exclaimed, snatching the wand out of her hand, "Give a bloke a chance to say goodbye to his childhood before you go tossing it into the bin!"

"Tell you what, Ron," she said with a smile, patting him on the leg, "I'm going to get something to drink from the kitchen…you say your goodbyes to your _childhood_, and when I come back I'll dispose of those boxes."

Without waiting for a response, Hermione got up and left the room, closing the door behind herself to give Ron some much needed privacy for his farewell to his childhood. Sighing, Ron got up and walked over to the boxes. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, he opened the boxes and peered inside.

"Well, mates," he said sadly, looking at the mass of moving figures piled unceremoniously into the box, "I'm afraid this is goodbye. Unless…"

When Hermione came back, she found Ron sitting on the bed in the same spot he'd occupied when she left. The two boxes of Ron's comics and action figures, however, were _not_ sitting in the same spot they'd been in when she left. In fact, they were gone.

"What happened to the boxes?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow at him and placing her hands on her hips, "I thought you were going to let me throw them out."

"I took care of them," Ron said avoiding her direct gaze.

"You binned them?" Hermione knew the answer to her question, but asked anyway.

"You'll never see _them_ again," he replied. If he didn't actually _answer_ her questions, Ron theorized, then he couldn't be accused of lying to her.

"Good," she nodded, "Now, get out. Katie needs your help moving the couch and I want to finish up in here."

Ron huffed slightly and got up. Kissing Hermione on the cheek, he left the room, but not before casting a sidelong glance at his closet where, in a back corner, two boxes sat, hidden by a Disillusionment charm, blending into their surroundings. Nope…she'd never see those boxes again.

* * *

Waking up in his very own flat for the first time ever was a bittersweet experience for Ron. There was an incredible sense of freedom at being his own man in his own home, but there was also an overwhelming sense of loneliness. He wouldn't be taking the long walk down past the many floors of the Burrow to find his mum preparing breakfast for the family; in fact, as he made his way from his bedroom to the kitchen, all Ron found was George standing at the sink eating a bowl of cereal dressed in nothing but a pair boxer shorts.

Ron sighed and helped himself to a bowl of cereal, dropping down into a chair at the small kitchen table. He ate in silence until, a few minutes later, George had decided to join him at the table, opting to _sit_ and eat instead of loitering over the sink for breakfast.

"What do you think Mum made for breakfast today?" Ron asked between bites of cereal, looking mournfully down into his bowl of what was fast becoming cold mush.

"Well, it's Saturday, isn't it?" George replied, matter-of-factly, taking a bite of his own mush. Ron and George looked at each other for an instant before speaking at the same time.

"Waffles," they said together, their voices wistful and dreamy. Ron took another bite of his breakfast, wishing it was a warm, delicious waffle topped in butter and jam instead of the cold mush that had turned rather grey and unappetizing in his bowl.

"There's only one thing for it," George said, getting up and putting his bowl in the sink.

"What's that?" Ron asked, trying to force himself to finish the cereal instead of dwelling on the waffles he was missing out on.

"You're going to have to learn to cook," the older Weasley replied, smiling and patting his younger brother on the back as he left the kitchen.

"Me?!" Ron exclaimed, spluttering around a mouthful of mush, "Why don't _you_ bloody well learn to cook?!"

"It's simple, Ronnie," George replied from the doorway, "If _I_ learn to cook, and start making all your meals for you, it'll be like you never moved out in the first place! You need to start doing for yourself and stop expecting everyone to wait on you hand-and-foot."

"And what about you?" Ron asked bitterly, "How is it any different if _I_ learn to cook and prepare all _your_ meals for _you_?"

"I'm a successful businessman, Ronnie," George said, doing his best to puff himself up and look professional while not seeming like a buffoon, standing there in a pair of boxers with his hair still messy from sleep, "And everyone knows that when a man becomes successful, he hires on a staff…someone to cook, someone to clean…which reminds me…you'll need to clean house every few days."

"I'm not your bloody maid!" Ron yelled indignantly, jumping to his feet and glaring down at his older brother.

"But you _are_ okay with taking on the cooking chores then? I'll even get you a frilly little apron like Mum wears!" George teased, smirking devilishly at his brother. George hurried out of the kitchen, however, when Ron growled and started stalking towards him menacingly, "Remember, Ronnie, I'm your employer! If you kill me, you're out of a job!!"

"I won't kill you, George," Ron said, smiling evilly, "I'm just going to rip your arm off and beat you with it! You can still run the shop with one arm!!"

An hour later, the Weasley Brothers were at work selling Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes to the masses, and while George still had both arms, they were significantly tender from where Ron had punched him for his incessant teasing. George, being George, made a big event of his brother's abuse, moaning and complaining loudly anytime he had to pick something up.

Ron managed to ignore George's whinging, however, as he had mind elsewhere. Tonight, after leaving the shop early, he would be having dinner with the Grangers. He hadn't seen them since the dinner at the Burrow last Sunday, and although he was fully comfortable around Hermione's parents, the prospect of going to their house for dinner was a bit unnerving…it was dinner with his girlfriend and her parents…just the four of them. If something could go wrong, surely it would choose _then_ to go wrong.

The nearer the time came for him to leave the shop, the more nervous he got. An hour before he was set to leave, he was so agitated that he'd nearly set Verity to tears by yelling at her when she'd asked him a question. Ron had to spend the rest of the hour apologizing to the young woman and convincing her not to quit his job amid scornful glares from George and assurances to Verity that Ron would be fired before she would be allowed to quit.

When it was finally time for Ron to leave work, he was actually relieved, since he'd made such a cock-up of the workday. Of course, then he remembered why he was leaving work early, and he got nervous once again which was really silly considering the amount of time he'd spent with the Grangers in Australia. Still, silly or not, one cannot convince a nervous young man _not_ to be nervous when going to see his girlfriend's parents. It was if _that_ was the natural order of things – for a young man to be nervous at dinner with his girlfriend's parents – and there was no use fighting the natural order.

An hour later, Ron was showered, clean-shaven, and dressed in his best Muggle-type clothes. He tucked his wizard's chess set under his arm and left the flat. He had a couple of things he wanted to pick up in Diagon Alley before he Flooed over to the Grangers. A quick stop at Fatima Fallsteeple's Fanciful Florist Shoppe and one purchase from The Leaky Cauldron, and Ron was spinning through the Floo Network heading towards the Grangers' house.

* * *

"Ron's here!" Hermione called excitedly as she watched the fireplace in her family's den suddenly flare up with magical green flames. She quickly smoothed down her dress, wanting to look her best for when her boyfriend stepped out of the fireplace.

Ron stopped spinning and stepped smoothly into the Grangers' den. Unlike Harry, who had never managed to come out of a Floo on his own two feet, Ron had long ago mastered the art of Floo travel. Just one of the perks of living his entire life as a wizard, instead of spending the first half of it as a Muggle as his two best friends had.

He smiled as he saw his girlfriend standing there waiting for him, wearing a red dress with small white floral patterns running the length and breadth of the fabric. Her hair was done up and she had an exquisite smile on her face as she ran to him about to throw her arms around him.

"Oops…wait…" she hesitated, waving her wand at him and quickly cleaning off the soot that he'd gathered on his clothes during his Floo journey. Once he was clean, she threw herself at him and kissed him lovingly, "There! Much better!"

Ron awkwardly put his arms around her, trying his best not to drop the parcels in his hands. He kissed her back tenderly and then broke away when her parents came walking into the den. Hermione stepped away and took a good look at him, noticing the items in his hands for the first time.

"Good evening, Ronald," Mrs. Granger said with smile as she stepped in and kissed his cheek, "Don't you look nice?"

"Thanks, ma'am," Ron said with a shy smile, "Err…you look nice, too. And 'Mione, you look…" _hot, sexy, amazing, incredible, good enough to eat_, "Beautiful."

"Thank you, Ron," Hermione said, sweetly.

"Good to see you again, Ron," Mr. Granger said, stepping in to shake Ron's hand. Ron had to shift the things he was holding before he could shake the dentist's hand.

"It's good to be here, sir," Ron replied with a smile and a nod.

"Quite an armload you've got there," Mr. Granger quipped, nodding at the items Ron was attempting to juggle, "Need some help?"

"Err…a bit," Ron nodded, blushing. He handed over the bottle he held in his hand first, "I didn't know what you were making for dinner, so I brought Alterberry wine...it goes with everything."

"I think you mean _elderberry_ wine," Hermione corrected, rubbing his back.

"No, 'Mione, it's Alterberry," Ron corrected _her_, "It's a magical wine. Whatever you're eating, the Alterberries in the wine change to make it the perfect compliment to the food."

"Brilliant!" Mr. Granger exclaimed, laughing.

"That's amazing, thank you, Ronald," Mrs. Granger said taking the wine from him, "We're having chicken parmesan, so I can't wait to see what the wine does with that. Do you like Italian food, Ron?"

"Err…" Ron looked to Hermione for a clue as to whether he did or didn't, "I don't know that I've ever had any."

"I'm sure you'll like it, Ron," his girlfriend replied with a smile, "It's very good."

"Alright, then," he said, nodding, "I'm willing to give it a try."

"That's the spirit!" John Granger laughed, slapping Ron on the back, "Nothing wrong with trying new things, son, it's what life is all about."

"I'm glad you think so, sir," Ron said with a smile, handing him the wizard's chess set he'd brought, "You prepared to try your hand at wizard's chess tonight?"

"Indeed I am!" Hermione's father said, wringing his hands together, "I've been fancying a rematch ever since that drubbing you gave me back in Sydney."

"Just don't get your hopes up, Daddy," Hermione laughed, "I've never seen Ron lose a game in the last seven years. I don't even know if Dumbledore could've beaten him."

"Oh, I'm sure I'll win tonight, Pumpkin," John Granger said, smiling wickedly at his daughter.

"How's that, Daddy?" Hermione said, giving her father a quizzical look.

John put his arm around Ron and smiled at him, "Well, if your boyfriend doesn't lose tonight…I'll forbid you from dating him!"

"Daddy!!"

"Sir?" Ron looked taken aback. He wasn't serious was he?

"I'm just having you on, Ron, don't look so scared!" John said laughing and slapping the redheaded young man on the back.

"Right…I forgot how much of a jokester you could be," he sighed.

"John, let's go," Elizabeth Granger said, grabbing her husband's arm, "Dinner will be ready shortly, Mr. Funny-Man, and you're going to help me in the kitchen while Hermione and Ron get some alone time."

Once the Grangers were out of the den, Ron found he could breathe a little easier. He looked over at Hermione and smiled at her until he noticed the funny look she was giving him, causing him to once again get nervous.

"What is it, 'Mione?" he asked, hoping he hadn't done something wrong.

"Are those for me?" she asked looking down at the bundle of flowers in his hand.

"Oh! Blood--…err…blimey!" he exclaimed, smacking himself in the forehead and then running his fingers nervously through his red locks, "Yes, they're for you. I'm sorry…I forgot."

"It's okay, Ron," she smiled, stepping in to kiss him on the cheek, "They're lovely…are they wild flowers?"

"Actually, they're _Mild_ flowers," Ron explained, "They look like ordinary wild flowers, but they have a calming influence on the people around them."

"And you think I _need_ a calming influence?" Hermione asked, quirking an eyebrow at him jokingly, "Do you really think my life is _that_ stressful?"

"Well…you _do_ have _me_ for a boyfriend!" he laughed before leaning down to kiss her.

"You're right…my life _is_ stressful!!" she said with a saucy wink.

They started to laugh together as they held each other when suddenly an orange ball of fluff came sprinting into the room at top speed, entwining itself between their legs.

"Oh! Looks like Crookshanks wants to say _hi_, Ron," Hermione said with a smile. She reached down and picked up the huge, squish-faced ginger cat, holding it up so Ron could see, "I think Crookshanks missed you."

"You sure?" Ron reached a tentative hand out and scratched the cat behind the ears, "I have to admit, I kind of miss having him around."

"Aww…you hear that, Crooksy? Ron misses you!" Hermione said, rubbing her nose against Crookshanks' before turning him back to face Ron, "What do you say to that, Kitty?"

As if by means of an answer, Crookshanks started to meow strangely and started to shake.

"What's wrong with him?" Ron answered, looking concernedly at the cat, "Is he sick?"

Before Hermione could answer him, the cat in her arms gave a mighty heave and vomited…on Ron.

"CROOKSHANKS!!"

* * *

**Author's End Notes:** Okay, so since I didn't get to take a break this past weekend, I'm going to take tomorrow off. I know it isn't the weekend, but as understanding as everyone was in their reviews, I think it'll be okay. I'll be back Wednesday with a new chapter. See you then.


	33. CataClysm

**Author's Notes:** Well my day off was a double-edged sword. It was bloody wonderful to not feel the pressure of having to get the day's chapter out, but at the same time, thanks to outside forces, I couldn't get any serious writing done. Furthermore, I think this fic is closing in on its end. I've pretty much run out of plot, and it's been pointed out that I'm losing containment of the characters. I'll do a few more chapters to get to the point I wanted to with this story, and end it. I have other stories in my head, and I'll be working on them, once this one's done.

**Edinburgh Love**, **Ann Malfoy**, **Cantletharrygo**, **CutewithAcapital-Q**, **fatyellowrat**, **Avanell**, **Dizzy0305**, **katie1985**, **Elytha**, **Trude**, **mugglemamma**, **emmy1124**, **Emma.Jane-HPfan**, **Moony3005**, **IsI Wisi**, **Lady Anja**, **embergrl9010**, **the written princess**, **MissFinnegan**, **Tiffany M**, **kareem33**, **randomguy1517**, **Shlesha**, **ronniemione**,** sarah-keyko**, **not for lack of trying**, **Emm04**, **Jacob's-One-Girl**, **Ravenhaired2**, and **Nosta82**, **Aly-Cat 101**, **EnglishGirlVerity**,** marauders rox**, **Lane Joey**, **allenterrill**, **skippyboo**, **Larelles**, **kellymc1**, **xxafterglowxx**, **screamxheart**, **zsdvnn**, **Foxy-Steph**, **Kirsty-Luan**, **marvelous-fanwriter**, **hctb**, **ronlover997 **and **HeatherRiddle** have been kind enough to review my story, and I appreciate each and every one of them. THANK YOU ALL SOOOO MUCH!!

Story rated M for language and naughty stuff.

**Disclaimer: **J.K. Rowling owns Harry and the whole lot.

* * *

**"Aftermath"**

**Chapter 33 -- Cat-a-Clysm**

"CROOKSHANKS!!" Hermione screamed, moving the vomiting cat away from Ron, but it was too late. His shirt…his very best shirt…was covered in green and orange (?) vomit. Ron stood there in shock, a disgusted look on his face. She dropped Crookshanks onto the floor where the poor cat continued to throw up. She was torn between helping her obviously grossed-out boyfriend and her obviously in-distress cat.

"Your cat…just…_chundered_…on me, Hermione," Ron said, looking down at his ruined shirt with revulsion and disbelief, "Ugh…I can feel it…soaking…through the material of my shirt; my _good_ shirt."

"I'm sorry, Ron," Hermione said, her face a mask of concern for her cat and contrition towards her boyfriend, "Crookshanks must be sick…but I promise…we'll do something about your shirt right away."

"Hermione, dear, I think Crookshanks was in my office again," John Granger said as he entered the den carrying a colorful box that had obviously been chewed open, "And he…oh bugger!"

"Daddy! There's something wrong with Crookshanks and…well…Ron needs a clean shirt," Hermione hurried over to her father, pointing from the cat on the floor…which was still throwing up…to her boyfriend who was still wearing cat vomit and looking less and less happy about it by the second.

"Yes, well, by all means we'll get Ronald something fresh to change into," John Granger nodded, "But first…I think we need to try and get Crookshanks to eat _this_."

Hermione looked down at the small piece of candy in her father's hand. It was orange on one end and purple on the other, and the very sight of it raised the young woman's ire. She looked quickly at the colorful box in his hand; even though it had been ripped and chewed open, the conspicuous three W's were still quite visible.

"Daddy, what in the name of Merlin's Technicolor underpants are _you_ doing with a Skiving Snackbox?" she looked accusingly at her father first before shooting a look at her disgruntled boyfriend, "Did _you_ know about this?!"

"Err…" he couldn't very well lie to her about this, "Well…yeah. I ran into your parents last weekend when you were staying at _The Leaky Cauldron_; they came into the shop and George showed your dad some stuff…but your _mum_ said it was okay for him to buy something."

"And you couldn't have sold him something innocuous; a trick wand or a pygmy puff?" Hermione glared angrily at him, "You had to sell him a Skiving Snackbox of all things?!"

"Hey…I didn't sell him anything," Ron said truthfully, trying to get himself out of the trouble he didn't see coming his way, "It was George!"

"Honestly, Hermione," her father said in a very Hermione-esque kind of way, "This is not Ron's fault; but instead of trying to assign blame just now, we could tend to Crookshanks as he is still vomiting quite a bit."

"Give me that," Hermione growled, snatching the purple-and-orange piece of candy from her father. She knelt down and tried to force her cat – between bouts of vomiting – to eat the purple end of the candy, "Come on, baby," she cooed to Crookshanks, "Do what Mummy wants…eat the candy, Kitty!"

The cat, however, seemed uninterested in eating. Crookshanks wailed miserably as yet another blast of vomit came rocketing forth out of his mouth.

"Ron…help me!" she looked up at her boyfriend with a pitiable look on her face, "He won't eat the Puking Pastille!"

"I don't blame him," Ron muttered as he dropped to his knees, "He probably recognizes it as the thing that made him sick in the first place." Ron grabbed the squirming, vomiting cat and held him tightly while Hermione desperately tried to pry open his jaws and force-feed him the remedy side of the candy.

Hearing the commotion coming from the den, Elizabeth Granger decided to see what all the ruckus was about. She found Hermione and Ron, covered in odd-colored vomit, kneeling on the floor of the den trying to force something into Crookshanks' maw between bouts of the cat vomiting all over the rug. Her _new_ rug. She scowled at her husband and the box he held in his hand as John merely watched their daughter and her boyfriend with a bemused expression.

"Please tell me you did _not_ feed the cat one of those Puking Pistols," Elizabeth said to her husband, a disgruntled tone in her voice.

"It's Puking _Pastille_, dear, and I didn't _feed_ it to him," John said in his own defense, "The damn cat chewed open the box and ate one on his own!"

"I never should have let you buy that silly Snackbox thing in the first place," she said crossly, "You owe me a new rug, John!"

Suddenly, with an angry hiss, Crookshanks lashed out at Ron, scratching his hand, before he bolted from the room in a blur of ginger-colored fur. Hermione sat back and gave a satisfied sigh; she'd finally managed to get the cat to eat the cure to his vomiting fit.

"Are you alright, Ron?" she asked, looking at the bloody scratches on his hand.

"It's nothing I'm not used to from your bloody cat," Ron groaned, getting to his feet and then offering his uninjured hand to Hermione to help her up. Both of them were covered in vomit, "Think we can get cleaned up now? The smell is really starting to get to me."

It _was_ a disgusting smell, now that Hermione had some time to dwell on it…and it was a definitely unpleasant feeling to have it clinging to one's skin and clothing as well. She took out her wand and cast a quick Cleansing charm on Ron before doing the same for herself.

"There…all better?" she asked with a smile.

"A bit," Ron nodded, "Although I still feel kind of…"

"Icky?" Hermione asked, frowning.

He nodded, "For lack of a better word…yeah."

She felt it, too. That was one thing about Cleansing charms. You got clean, but there was still the feeling of dirtiness…it would never be as good as a nice, hot shower or a long, luxurious soak in a tub.

"If you still need to get cleaned up," Mrs. Granger said, looking mournfully from the vomit on her formerly new rug to her daughter's boyfriend, "You can go upstairs and shower in the guest bathroom."

"Let's take a look at your hand first," Mr. Granger said, stepping up to Ron and turning to Hermione, "Pumpkin, why don't you run and get the first aid kit."

"I suppose _I'll_ be the one to clean up this mess, then?" Elizabeth Granger groused to her husband. She was about to leave in search of some cleaning products and a bucket of soapy water when Ron stopped her.

"I'll take care of it," he said, pulling his wand out of his back pocket, "I'm not as good with these Cleaning charms as Hermione but I should be able to get the job done."

Ron gave his wand a swish and a flick and muttered the Cleaning charm incantation and a wispy ball of light shot out of his wand. When the ball of light hit the soiled rug, it erupted into a myriad of soap-like bubbles that magically scoured the rug clean of Crookshanks' vomit.

"Thank you, Ronald," Mrs. Granger said, looking down at her now-clean rug. She shot a look at her husband that told him he wasn't out of the doghouse yet, and then left the den, "Dinner should be ready in about ten minutes."

"I suspect you saved me from having to buy a new rug for Lizzie just now, Ron," Mr. Granger said conspiratorially once his wife was out of the room.

"Seems every time I come around, you're getting in trouble," Ron quipped, "Hope you don't start thinking of me as a bad luck charm."

"Hrmm…you have a point," Mr. Granger said, cocking an eyebrow and appearing to scrutinize him, "You'll have to stop dating Hermione immediately."

"Sir?" Ron looked nervously into the dentist's dark, brown eyes. He couldn't be serious, could he?

"Relax, Ronald," the older man said with a smile, "I'm just having you on a bit. Mrs. Granger's life would be much too boring if I didn't get her riled up a bit every now and again."

Hermione returned with the first aid kit, and her father quickly went about cleaning, disinfecting, and bandaging the scratches. When the job was done, Mr. Granger clapped Ron on the shoulder and then left the young couple alone…hopefully not to be interrupted this time. He, after all, had more pressing matters…like hiding the remains of his Skiving Snackbox before he was forced to get rid of it.

"Y'know," Ron said, looking down at the wrapping on his hand, "It wasn't that bad of a wound. You could have fixed it with a Healing charm."

"I could have," Hermione agreed, nodding, "But it wouldn't have gone over very well. My parents prefer doing things the Muggle way, Ron. If we weren't such a mess, I never would have even suggested using a Cleaning charm on us earlier.

"I didn't know," Ron frowned, "Guess I shouldn't have used my wand to clean the rug, huh?"

"Probably not," she said, returning his frown, "Although I think Mum likes that rug in here so much she might be willing to let it go. But, don't be surprised if there's a _No Magic in the House_ lecture at dinner. In the meantime, are you still interested in that shower?"

"Err…a bit, yeah," he nodded.

"Follow me."

* * *

"What's wrong, Harry?" Ginny asked as she walked into the attic bedroom at the Burrow. The room, while still painted its characteristic Chudley Cannons orange, looked completely different to her. The absence of her brother and his eighteen years' worth of accrued belongings made the room seem empty and alien. Ginny could tell by the look on Harry's face that he felt it, too.

"It's weird, isn't it, Gin?" Harry said, looking up at her, his face sullen, "With Ron gone, the whole place seems strange. Like, it's still the Burrow, but at the same time, it's this whole other place."

"I know exactly what you mean," Ginny said with a sad little smile as she sat down next to him on the bed that had once belonged to her brother, "This reminds me of the way it felt that very first year that Ron went away to Hogwarts. Everyone was gone, and it was just me, Mum, and Dad."

"I suspect this is what Hogwarts would feel like for me, now that Dumbledore's gone; like I don't really belong," Harry sighed, looking down at his feet, "I mean, I'm here by virtue of being Ron's friend…if Ron's not living here anymore, then neither should I."

"You're _here_ because you're an honorary Weasley," Ginny said reaching over to take his hand, "Ron or no Ron, this is your home now. Besides, you'll be leaving for the Auror Academy in the fall, right? You may as well stay _here_ until then."

"Yeah, I guess," Harry shrugged, "I just feel like I'm being left behind, you know? For the first time since I've known him, Ron's not…you know…"

"In your shadow?" she suggested, smiling ruefully.

"Well, I was going to say _behind me_," he sighed, his shoulders sagging a bit, "But yeah. I sort of feel like he's trying to get away from me…that we're moving in different directions."

"That's because you _are_, Harry," Ginny said, giving a slight sardonic chuckle, "I mean, you're going off to be an Auror in a few months, and Ron's running the joke shop with George. It doesn't take Hermione to see that those are different paths. You had to realize that one day you guys would go off and do your own things, didn't you?"

"Uh…not exactly, Ginny," Harry looked up at her, feeling a bit stupid, "I mean…getting through Hogwarts was such a struggle. Every year it was some new threat. It's like there was no time to really _look_ to the future…not that Hermione didn't do her best to get us to; she was probably the only one of us that knew there was something else out there and that one day we'd split apart."

"And now she and Ron are the ones that are staying together," she replied.

"Exactly!" he exclaimed, nodding vigorously, "They're going to be together forever, and I'm going to be off on my own."

"That's not exactly true," Ginny said, a slight note of indignity in her voice, "Don't tell Ron or Hermione I said this…but they've got a very good chance of growing apart over the next year. She'll be at Hogwarts studying to be…I don't know…Deputy Minister for All Knowledge in the Universe Ever, and he'll be working at the shop. They'll only see each other a few times the entire year…guys will be interested in her, girls will be interested in him…they could easily grow apart."

Harry looked saddened and a bit frightened by the prospect, "The same could be said for us."

"Yes, it could," Ginny nodded, "It's going to be very hard not seeing you every day…it'll be like last year all over again. Well…almost. At least I'll have Hermione this time. She and I can keep each other sane."

"And you can double date with all those guys who will be interested in the two of you," he said with a frown.

"That too," she said smiling. She nudged his shoulder to show that she was only joking, "Despite what I said, Harry, I'm hoping Ron and Hermione don't grow apart…almost as much as I'm hoping that _we_ don't."

"Me too, Gin," he nodded, "I may not be very good with this whole boyfriend/girlfriend thing, but I do know that you're the best thing that ever happened to me…and I'd be lost without you."

"Don't worry, Harry," she said softly, putting an arm around him and resting her head on his shoulder, "You've got the Marauder's Map…so no matter how lost _you_ get, you'll still be able to find me."

"And," Harry added, a wry smile playing across his lips, "I'll be able to check up on you to make sure you're not sneaking off into a broomstick closet with one of your many male admirers."

"No chance of _that_ happening," Ginny replied, smiling wickedly back at him, "I'll be sure and conduct all my snogging sessions in the Room of Requirement, since it doesn't show up on your map."

"Hey! Ginny, that's not funny," Harry cried foul as she bested him at his own game of teasing.

"Good night, Harry," Ginny said, smiling prettily as she leaned over to kiss his cheek, "Sweet dreams."

"Ginny…!" Harry whined her name, but it fell on deaf ears.

"See you in the morning, Harry," she said getting up and making her way to the door, ignoring his pleas.

"You're pure evil, Ginny, you know that?" he laughed as he said it, letting her know that, even though she won this round, he was aware it was all in fun, _"No need to brood over this!"_

"Oh, I'm not _pure_ evil, Harry," she replied as she left, "Just _mostly_ evil. You would do well to remember that…especially if any female Auror trainees decide to show some interest in _you_. I won't need a Marauder's Map…I'll _know_!"

"I don't doubt it," he smirked once she was gone, "Not that she has anything to worry about."

* * *

There _had_ been a lecture to go along with dinner at the Grangers, and it didn't just cover wand use by Hermione and any wizards or witches who might be visiting, but also the purchasing and usage of any items from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes by Mr. Granger. It seems he was to destroy the remaining contents of the Skiving Snackbox before any other untoward mishaps occurred. Hermione couldn't help but agree, citing that if Crookshanks had eaten a Nosebleed Nougat instead, the poor cat might very well be dead right now.

Despite the lecture, dinner was pleasant enough, and the food was delicious. It turned out that Ron, did, indeed, like Italian food, quite a bit actually. Luckily for him, Mrs. Granger had been warned about Ron's appetite by her daughter, and there was more than enough food to go around, even for Ron's bottomless pit of a stomach. In spite of all he had eaten at dinner, Ron still had room for dessert, when Mrs. Granger served the trifle.

A quick game of wizard's chess followed dinner. Mr. Granger quite enjoyed the action of the animated little chessmen, although Mrs. Granger found it all a bit too violent. Ron couldn't help but laugh as he was reminded of Hermione's reaction to wizard's chess the very first time she'd seen him play. Despite his best efforts, Mr. Granger once again lost to Ron, watching piece after piece of his obliterated by Ron's own pieces.

The highlight of the evening for Ron was when he was introduced to television. He'd been hearing about it from Harry and Hermione for years, but this was his first exposure to the phenomenon that most Muggles seemed to adore. Ron could understand their infatuation with the device, and he knew his father would absolutely adore it…if only there were some way of bringing a television to the Burrow without his mum finding out.

It was Half-Eleven by the time Ron left the Grangers' house. He had managed to get in a short snogging session with Hermione, outside in the garden, shortly after her parents went to bed. After far too short a time, the snogging ended, and safely under the cover of darkness, he Apparated back to Diagon Alley and the flat he shared with his brother, George.

When he made his way up into the flat, the place was dark except for a small fire in the sitting room's fireplace. Ron had his wand out and was about to ignite the lights within the flat, when he realized he'd walked in on something he shouldn't have.

The soft, wet sounds of snogging could be heard in the darkness. Without even casting a glance in the direction the sounds were coming from, Ron hurried out of the room and down the short hallway to his bedroom. Once safely inside his room, he allowed himself a small knowing smile.

"Good for you, George," he said to himself as he went about getting ready for bed, "Fred would be proud of ya', mate."

* * *

**Author's End Notes:** Well there was a rather pointless chapter...anybody know where my plot disappeared to? I can't seem to find it with two hands and a flashlight. UGH!!


	34. Party all the Time

**Author's Notes:** In the immortal words of Sir Paul McCartney, "What do you mean we're going to do one of _Ringo's_ songs?" No, wait, hold it...that's not it. This is it..."Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated." Yes, I am not dead, although I suppose if I were, I'd be the last one to know it. So, where have I been? Well, I'd like to say I've been on a small island in the South Pacific drinking fruity umbrella drinks out of a coconut while wonderfully tanned women sarongs and leis waited on my hand and foot. I'd very MUCH like to say that. However, the truth is far more boring. I've been here, at home, working on getting this chapter together for you.

Let me take a moment to apologize outright for taking so bloody long with this bloody chapter. The last thing most of you remember, I was posting Chapter 33 and saying that I was going to start taking the weekends off, only to have me disappear for seventeen days. I've been in contact with some of you, and I'm sure more than a few of you saw that I posted a story in honor of Hermione Granger's birthday on September 19th (her birthday, according to JKR). I took two days off of working on this story to work on _that _story. If you haven't already, feel free to check out "Happy Birthday Hermione"...it's a bit of fluff, but it does take place in what we're calling the Aftermath Universe, although it takes place a few months in the future.

So why the two week hiatus? Has it only BEEN two weeks? In the name of Merlins manky disco pants, it's felt like a MONTH to me!! However, according to the stats on "Aftermath", I updated it on September 10th...so I don't feel as bad as I did. Mind you, I still feel HORRIBLE, but before I realized I'd only been away for two weeks (give or take 3 days), I felt possitively despicably ABOMINABLE!! It seems like I'm stalling...does it seem like I'm stalling to you? Maybe I'm just the loquacious type, and having been away, lo these past seventeen days, I haven't had a chance to wax poetic...or wax Quixotic...or wax my car, either, for that matter. Bloody rain! No waxing for the old Hawkmobile today!

Okay, so, yeah, I'm stalling. Okay, here it is...I was burnt out!! I was stressing so bad, I wasn't sleeping. I would wake up and think about how I gotta get a chapter done, and as soon as the chapter was done and posted, I started working on...and worrying about...the NEXT chapter! One of my dear reviewers, with whom I've been in near constant contact since this story began, could tell you I was a mess. So, I decided to take my time with Chapter 34. However, after two weeks, that same reviewer started getting a little antsy, wanting to know where the Hell the next chapter was. The truth of the matter is, it wasn't...and still isn't...finished.

What I present to you here is NOT the Chapter 34 I had envisioned. In fact, this bit here...which is longer than any of my other previous chapters...is only about HALF of what Chapter 34 was actualy going to be! However, I found a good place to cut the chapter in half, and I'm posting it. The remainder of what I wrote will work its way into Chapter 35...which isn't even close to being finished yet, so I can't give you an estimate on its post date. Let's just hope it's significantly less than seventeen days from now.

I really struggled with this chapter. My confidence was bloody well shot after a few choice reviews I got that informed me I'd, essentially, slaughtered the characters. You know me, I've said from the get-go that my stuff is rubbish, so as soon as my beliefs were somewhat verified, the crest of the wave of praise I was riding high on (thanks to the wonderful reviews I got from most of you) crashed and I was so much dog meat! Like I said, I struggled with this chapter. I wrote half of it, before I realized what I was writing was crap, so I re-wrote it. Then, halfway through, I had to dump a large chunk of what I was writing (some 2000+ words) because even _I_ could see I'd gone off the reservation and was writing the characters incorrectly. I don't know who they were, but they weren't Harry, Ron, and Ginny!

I'm not entirely sure this chapters _isn't_ rubbish (but then, what chapter _haven't_ I said that about?), but I'll post it anyway. Seventeen days is too long a vacation from this story. I do hope some of you manage to enjoy this.

As always, I have a mad-on for my reviewers, whether they like my work or not. Just the fact that they'd take the time to review my work, either to encourage me or to suggest ways to better myself, is something I'll always appreciate. **Edinburgh Love**, **Ann Malfoy**, **Cantletharrygo**, **CutewithAcapital-Q**, **fatyellowrat**, **Avanell**, **Dizzy0305**, **katie1985**, **Elytha**, **Trude**, **mugglemamma**, **emmy1124**, **Emma.Jane-HPfan**, **Moony3005**, **IsI Wisi**, **Lady Anja**, **embergrl9010**, **the written princess**, **MissFinnegan**, **Tiffany M**, **kareem33**, **randomguy1517**, **Shlesha**, **ronniemione**,** sarah-keyko**, **not for lack of trying**, **Emm04**, **Jacob's-One-Girl**, **Ravenhaired2**, **Nosta82**, **Aly-Cat 101**, **EnglishGirlVerity**,** marauders rox**, **Lane Joey**, **allenterrill**, **skippyboo**, **Larelles**, **kellymc1**, **xxafterglowxx**, **screamxheart**, **zsdvnn**, **Foxy-Steph**, **Kirsty-Luan**, **marvelous-fanwriter**, **hctb**, **ronlover997**, **HeatherRiddle**, **LadyInWriting**, **beautifulshamrock**, **shadowmonger**, **lemondrop43**, and **watched 2 much tv** have all been so kind as to review my work. Thank you all so much.

**Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling owns this stuff. If it was mine, the first book would'a been titled "Ron Weasley and the Scar-Headed Emo Kid".

* * *

**"Aftermath"**

**Chapter 34 -- Party All the Time**

The last two weeks of the month of May passed in a similar style for everyone involved.

Hermione spent most of her days at the Burrow, whiling away her time with Harry and Ginny – trying her best _not_ to seem like a third wheel on a Muggle bicycle – or helping Mrs. Weasley around the house. It was a much better way to spend the summer before her final year at Hogwarts than sitting around an empty house while her parents went to work, getting their dental practice back in order.

Harry and Ginny, when not hanging out with Hermione, spent their time together doing two things: 1) Making up for time lost while Harry was away on the Horcrux hunt, and 2) Making up for time they would lose when Ginny returned to Hogwarts in September. This meant a lot of snogging whenever and wherever they could find themselves a bit of privacy.

Ron, of course, spent his time, six days a week, working at the joke shop, slowly but surely becoming indispensible to George as he, bit-by-bit, developed a knack for the business. Ron's nights were most often spent with Hermione, usually at the flat above the shop, snogging for a few hours before she eventually returned home.

George had been extra secretive lately, ever since the night Ron walked into the darkened flat and very nearly caught sight of his older brother snogging some bird in the firelight of the sitting room. George had never mentioned the snog-fest, and they had never talked about it, since Ron wasn't about to bring it up. Most nights after work, George went _out_ for the evening, and Ron knew that he must be going to spend time with his new snogging companion…and those nights when George didn't come home at all, well, Ron felt a bit of jealousy run through him then.

Ron was hoping that he would soon have a chance for his own overnight snogging with Hermione, and as the first weekend in June arrived, he thought that maybe he'd have his chance. The first Saturday in June, George and Ron threw a party at the flat. Officially, it was a flat-warming party, but unofficially it was a chance for George, Ron, and all their friends to cut loose and enjoy themselves.

The flat had been festively decorated for the party. Ron had thought putting up decorations seemed silly, as it was a flat-warming party and not some holiday or special occasion. George, however, had insisted that it was the perfect opportunity for him to test out the new Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes _Party-in-a-Box_ instant decorating kit – a different variety for every occasion – and Ron had somehow been overruled.

Ron was more than a little concerned that you had to light the fuse on the _Party-in-a-Box_ and then flee the room while it "decorated" for you. Before Ron could express his concerns, however, George had already touched the tip of his wand to the fuse and lit it, bolting from the room with a smile on his face. Ron had to quickly follow before he wound up "decorated" as well.

"You're barmy, you know that, George?" Ron said as, with a loud _bang_, the sitting room was decorated with festive, multi-colored streamers and balloons.

"Look at it this way, Ronnie," George replied, waving away the smoke as he re-entered the sitting room, "We can't _sell_ these things to people until we _test_ them…and what better way to test _Party-in-a-Box_ than at the party in our flat? Now…what say you do something about all this smoke…before some passerby thinks the building's caught fire."

Ron grumbled and took out his wand, coughing and choking on the acrid smoke filling the room even as he dispersed it with his wand. George, meanwhile, had gone off to the kitchen to get the food and beverages laid out. It was going to be quite a spread, and despite Ron's misgivings about the decorations, once the smoke was gone, the atmosphere in the flat really did scream _party_.

Finished with de-smoking the sitting room, Ron made his way into the kitchen to check on George and to maybe sneak an hors d'oeuvre or two. When he got there, he discovered George intermingling Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes products in with the actual food. Canary Creams, Puckering Peppermints, Hairloss Honey-bombs, Ton-Tongue Toffee, as well as the contents of several Skiving Snackboxes was mixed in amongst the very appetizing array of food and sweets.

"Do you really think people are going to eat those things?" Ron asked indicating the WWW products as he grabbed a roast beef finger-sandwich his mother had prepared for the party and taking half of it in his mouth in one bite, "You don' fink dey'll know it'f a fwick?"

"Once everyone's gotten a few drinks in them," George replied with his trademark grin, "They won't be able to tell a Canary Cream from a cabbage roll-up! Now…stop picking at the food, Ronnie…people will be arriving soon!"

Sighing, Ron made his way back out of the kitchen, popping the rest of the finger sandwich into his mouth. He sat on the couch in the sitting room, waiting for the flow of guests to start arriving. The old Wizarding Wireless in the corner was tuned to a station that played popular, contemporary music, and the Weird Sisters' _Do the Hippogriff_ was playing, causing Ron to tap his foot absentmindedly.

Suddenly, green flames flared up in the fireplace across from the couch, prompting Ron to jump to his feet as the first of the party's guests were about to arrive. George made his way into the sitting room, a glass of Old Ogden's Best already in hand. One behind the other, Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley made their way out of the fireplace and into the Weasley Brothers' flat.

"Welcome to our commode!" George gushed jovially as he walked up to the new arrivals. He clapped Harry on the back and gave his sister a quick hug, "Make yourselves to home!"

"I think you mean _abode_, George," Harry replied, smiling brightly.

"Ah, but ickle Harry," George quipped handing him the glass of Firewhiskey he held, "Once you've drank your fill of Old Ogden's, you'll be introducing yourself to our commode…mark my words!"

"In that case, George," Harry said, sniffing the contents of the glass, and turning his nose up at it, "I think maybe I'll just stick to Butterbeer."

"I'll drink it!" Ginny said, eagerly, throwing back the glass and downing the alcohol in one gulp. Her throat burned and her eyes watered, and she couldn't help grimacing slightly. The first shot of Firewhiskey was always the hardest to get down. She looked up at her brother and smiled despite her watering eyes, "Smooth!"

"Brilliant, Ginny!" George cheered, slapping his little sister on the back, "Let me get you another!"

Harry gave Ginny a concerned look as George disappeared into the kitchen to get another glass of Old Ogden's for Ginny. She saw the look on his face, and stuck her tongue out at him, playfully, "Loosen up, Harry…there's no parental supervision tonight…we can cut loose and enjoy ourselves. Besides…if I drink too much, I've got you to hold my hair back when I get sick!"

He couldn't help but laugh at her when she winked at him. Even so, he planned on keeping an eye on her drinking tonight. He hadn't ever seen Ginny Weasley drunk, and he wasn't quite sure what to expect. She had been acting a bit erratic lately…not that he'd been much better…and he didn't think throwing alcohol into the mix would make an improvement.

Harry was drawn out of his reverie when he suddenly realized that Ron had been talking to him this whole time.

"Sorry, mate," Harry said, blushing slightly, "What was that?"

"I was thanking you and Ginny for your help this week," Ron explained, giving his friend a funny look, "Having so many people help out really made the job of moving in a lot easier."

"Which is why you get to repay us with food and booze!" Ginny quipped, laughing gaily.

"Ask and ye shall receive," George said with a smile as he returned with another glass of Firewhiskey for Ginny and a bottle of Butterbeer for Harry, "Just go easy on this one, little sister…we don't want to explain to Mum why her pride-and-joy is completely minced!"

"Especially if _you're_ the one who got her minced, eh George?" Harry joked, taking the bottle of Butterbeer from the elder Weasley Brother.

"Don't worry, Harry," George said, putting an arm on Harry's shoulder, "We'll shift the blame _your_ way; Mum always goes easiest on you."

"Too right, that is!" Ron agreed, nodding at George's statement, "You're Mum's favorite Weasley, mate!"

Harry blushed, not sure what to say to that. Mrs. Weasley _had_ always shown him special treatment, and he couldn't deny that he enjoyed being considered one of the Weasley brood. Still, it was embarrassing to think that his would-be foster mother would always go easier on him than on her own, natural-born children.

"Speaking of Mum," Ginny cut in after taking a sip of her new glass of Old Ogden's, "Here."

Ginny passed a lumpy parcel to George. It was wrapped in colored paper and had a similar appearance to the packages the Weasleys' Christmas sweaters were wrapped in each year…although this package was somewhat larger and heavier from the looks of it.

"It's a flat-warming gift from Mum," Ginny explained as George started to tear into the package, "She's sure to ask about it tomorrow at brunch…so you'd better like it."

George had removed all the colored paper, allowing it to fall unceremoniously to the sitting room floor, and unfolded a large hand-knitted throw-blanket. The blanket was a deep reddish color and bore a large, white "W" in the center. George looked over at his brother, a slight smirk on his face.

"Bloody Hell," Ron groaned as he saw the throw and recognized it for what it was, "She's knitted a Weasley sweater for our couch!"

"That's one way of looking at it," Ginny laughed, slapping Ron on the back.

"And it's maroon!!" Ron closed his eyes and grimaced.

"Obviously," George said, thrusting the blanket at his brother, "Mum meant this as a gift for you, Ronniekins."

"I don't bloody want it," Ron said, shoving it back at George. He then realized how ungrateful he sounded, "Err…I mean…she meant it for _both_ of us, George. So let's just put it on the couch and be done with it."

Rolling her eyes at her brothers and putting down her drink, Ginny snatched the blanket away from them and proceeded to drape it neatly over the back of the couch, immediately giving the room a homey touch.

"I certainly hope you two are more tactful when Mum asks you about it tomorrow," Ginny said, shooting them both meaningful glares as she reclaimed her drink and took a seat on the blanket-draped couch.

Ron was about to interject and inform his little sister that he could, indeed, be tactful if he, in fact, ever wanted to be. Luckily, though, before the ludicrous statement could be uttered from his lips, there was a knock at the door. Ron muttered something incomprehensible under his breath as he went to answer the door.

Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood stood outside on the landing as Ron opened the door. Neville smiled up at him brightly, and as usual, Luna looked at him in a far-off, dreamy fashion.

"Neville, Luna…come on in," Ron said, smiling at his friends and making way for them to enter, "Welcome to the flat."

"Happy flat-warming," Neville said, entering the flat and handing Ron a large potted plant.

"It's a…tree," Ron said, a bit dumbfounded, looking at his friend for some sort of an explanation.

"It's a Ficus Felicis – a Good Luck Fig Tree," Neville explained, indicating the small, golden, bulb-shaped fruit growing from the leafy, green tree, "They say a wizard created these trees by taking a common, Muggle fig tree and irrigating it only using Felix Felicis potion, although that's never been proven. The tree is supposed to bring good luck to your home…although that's never been proven either. About the only thing that _has_ been proven is that its fruit is delicious when ripe."

"Thanks for the tree, Neville" Ron said, smiling at his friend, "And the Herbology lesson."

Neville blushed bashfully as Ron took the plant off his hands. Ron turned to face Luna, smiling awkwardly as she beamed up at him with a dreamy look in her eye. He still got a bit nervous when her sole attention was turned to him, as it was now.

"Hello, Ronald," she said with an airy, far-away tone in her voice. Before he could respond, Luna shoved some _thing_ into his hand, "I made you and your brother a nargle ward."

"Err…that's great, Luna," Ron said, trying his best to be polite to the oddball girl, since she'd literally risked her life time and again to help Harry and the rest of them. He looked down at the wreath of what appeared to be barley bound with twine attached to Butterbeer caps, "It's…erm…unusual," he said, searching for a word to describe what he held in his hand, "What do I…?"

"You hang it on your door, and it keeps the nargles away…otherwise they might get in and start hiding your things."

"Err…thanks, Luna," Ron replied, screwing on his best grateful smile.

"You're quite welcome, Ronald," Luna replied, smiling brightly, throwing her arms around him and giving him a hug, "I'm glad you like it. Don't forget to hang it up. You don't want the nargles to get in."

Ron patted her awkwardly on the back a couple of times and she pulled away. With her flat-warming gift now in Ron's possession, Luna skipped past him and took a seat next to Harry and Ginny. Neville shrugged and followed behind her. Harry and Ginny greeted the two newcomers, and they soon settled into a conversation about summer plans.

George gave Ron a funny look as he took the ficus off his hands. "What's a nargle?" George asked, whispering to his younger brother.

Ron shrugged and whispered back to his brother, "I have no idea…but better safe than sorry," And with that, Ron attached the nargle ward to the front door with a Sticking charm…at least while Luna was at the party. No need to hurt the girl's feelings just because _she_ was the only one there who believed in nargles.

George smirked at his brother and wandered off to find a good place for the ficus, opting for an empty corner near the sitting room window. Ron, meanwhile, had gone off to the kitchen returning moments later with drinks for Luna and Neville. The youngest Weasley was just about to grab a seat and join in on the conversation, when the fireplace suddenly erupted in green flames.

"Hopefully this is Hermione," Ron said excitedly, moving in front of the hearth to await the imminent arrival. George moved next to him, chuckling at his younger brother's enthusiasm. Ron's demeanor soured quickly, however, when he saw the person who stepped out of the fireplace.

Katie Bell stepped from the green flames. She immediately noticed the scowl on Ron's face and returned it with one of her own, "Hello to you, too!" she said to Ron in a snippy voice. She then turned to George and her features and voice softened considerably, "Hi, George!" She moved over and gave the older Weasley a friendly hug. She had barely finished the hug when the flames flared again.

Alicia Spinnet emerged from the fire only a few short moments after Katie. She eyed the handful of people at the party, gave Ron a quizzical look, confused about the expression on his face, and then she saw her good friend and roommate, Katie, hugging George.

"Save some of him for me, Katie!" Alicia said gaily as she moved over towards the redheaded jokester. As soon as Katie broke away from George, Alicia stepped up and gave him a hug.

"There's plenty of me to go around, ladies," George laughed as he hugged Alicia.

"There'd better be _something_ left for _me_," Angelina Johnson said as she, too, stepped out of the fireplace. She smiled at her two roommates and walked up to George as Alicia broke her hold on him.

"There's always just a little left for you, Angelina," George joked, sweeping her into a hug as well, "Now that the three of you have arrived, the party can begin!"

Once the hug-a-thon in front of the fireplace was finished, George hurried off into the kitchen to retrieve drinks for the newest arrivals, while the girls made to mingle with the five other people in the room. Ron had taken up a position in a chair facing the fireplace. He was staring intently at it, waiting for it to flare up again.

Katie Bell, upon receiving a drink from George, sat herself on the arm of the chair Ron was perched in. When that didn't draw his attention, she immediately punched him in the arm.

"What the Hell!" he growled, rubbing his arm and scowling up at her.

"How come you didn't look happy to see me?" Katie asked, looking down at her former Gryffindor Quidditch teammate.

"Maybe because you like to punch me," Ron said sarcastically, "Or maybe I'm worried you'll make me move the same bloody table ten times to get it just right only to finally leave it where it was in the first place."

"You have to admit…the furniture looks good where it is," she quipped.

Ron's only response was a non-committal grunt.

"Oh, loosen up, Ron!" Katie said, rolling her eyes, "You don't see George sitting around pouting!"

Ron looked over to his brother; George was shamelessly flirting with both Alicia and Angelina. Ron couldn't help but wonder if one of them was the girl George had been snogging with two weeks ago when he'd walked in on them.

"I'm not pouting," Ron muttered, "I'm waiting for Hermione."

"Well can't you have fun while you wait?" Katie asked, looking down at the younger Weasley. She pushed her glass towards him, "Here…have a drink."

"No thanks," Ron mumbled, waving her off.

"Suit yourself," Katie said, shrugging, "At least your sister and your friend Luna know how to have fun."

Ron looked over and, sure enough, Luna and Ginny appeared to be enjoying themselves. The two girls had gotten up and started dancing to the music coming out of the wizard wireless in the corner. Ron couldn't help but chuckle as he watched the two girls twirling around unabashedly.

"I love this song," Ginny laughed as she and Luna danced together to the sounds of the Flashing Wands' latest release, _Trollfoot_.

"It is quite good," Luna replied, spinning around and around in a circle, waving her arms above her head, "It's a shame the _real_ Flashing Wands were all eaten by Gulping Plimpies; the group is now actually a bunch of goblins using Polyjuice potion to look like the original band."

Ginny stopped dead as Luna espoused her latest crackpot conspiracy theory. Despite having spent quite a bit of time with the unusual blonde girl, this was a new theory even to Ginny, and it caught her off-guard. After a few moments, however, the Weasley girl managed to shrug off the absurdity of Luna's claim and resume dancing.

"Do you have any idea what Luna was just talking about?" Harry asked, leaning over towards Neville. Not much for dancing, the two of them had declined the girls' invitation to dance with them, and had opted instead to sit and watch.

"Not really," Neville admitted, shaking his head, "But, then, Luna has always said a lot of things that I didn't quite understand…like going to Sweden every year in search of Crumple-Horned Snorcacks. I mean…they're not real, are they Harry?"

"I doubt it," Harry laughed at the concerned expression on Neville's face, "If they were, Hagrid probably would have rounded some up for a Care of Magical Creatures class."

"Yeah…good point," Neville nodded, "That's one class I won't ever miss. Oh, and Potions, too!"

"I won't miss them either," Harry agreed, "Although, I suppose I'll be studying Potions at the Auror Academy."

"I can hardly believe you're going to be an Auror!" Neville said excitedly, "I mean, it's not hard to believe, considering everything you've done…especially this past year…but the requirements are so tough, and you're not even eighteen yet! I bet you're going to be the youngest Auror in a hundred years…just like with being a Seeker!"

"Youngest Auror _ever_, actually, according to Kingsley Shacklebolt," Harry said, a bit sheepishly. He didn't like being the center of attention, and he certainly didn't like having special treatment and unwelcome praise heaped onto him…but it seemed that was his lot in life as the Boy-Who-Lived, "Provided I don't wash out of the Academy."

"You won't!" Neville exclaimed, smiling broadly at Harry, "You killed Voldemort! You saved the _entire_ world!! The Academy will be easy compared to that!"

"I hope so," Harry said, frowning slightly. He didn't want to remind Neville that he didn't exactly save the world single-handedly, and that even the defeat of Voldemort couldn't have been accomplished without the help of his friends. That, too, was part of being the Boy-Who-Lived…everyone thought Harry was some sort of super-powerful Chosen One instead of just a boy who had been caught in the middle of something he never fully understood.

"You'll be brilliant!" Neville said, seeming as though he had become a fully-paid member of the Harry Potter Fan Club, "And you're right lucky you don't have to take your N.E.W.T.s at the end of summer like the rest of us."

"Well, that is the bright side in all this," Harry agreed, "I wasn't looking forward to N.E.W.T.s even when I was still at Hogwarts; now that I've been gone for a year, they're the last thing I want to think about."

"Lucky you!" Ginny said with mock bitterness as she plopped down on the couch next to him, "You'll be off learning how to fight dark wizards while I'm stuck putting up with Hermione as she slowly goes insane fretting over exams."

They all laughed at the image of Hermione and the way she went berserk during her Fifth Year when she had to study for O.W.L.s; things could only get worse for the grades-conscious girl when the time came for her to revise for the Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests.

"Where _is_ Hermione?" Neville asked as he looked around. He hadn't seen her when he arrived, and as Ron was having a conversation with Katie Bell and not having a blazing row with Hermione, he assumed she hadn't arrived yet.

"I do hope she hasn't been eaten by a Blibbering Humdinger," Luna said, her airy voice showing a hint of concerned, "Poor Ronald would be devastated."

Lucky for Neville, Luna was sitting on the couch next to Ginny, facing her and Harry, and not looking at him. Therefore, she couldn't see him roll his eyes at the mention of yet another of her crazy, made-up monsters. Ginny and Harry weren't as lucky, though, and they had to fight hard the urge to laugh and smirk at Luna's suggestion.

"I'm sure she'll be along soon," Harry said, trying his best to keep a straight face.

"Yeah, Hermione's the best witch of her year," Ginny added, "She can handle any old Blubbering Humbugger."

"Blibbering Humdinger," Luna corrected her, "I've never heard of a Blubbering Humbugger. I wonder if the two species are related. Perhaps my father knows…I'll ask him in the morning. Perhaps instead of searching for Crumple-Horned Snorcacks this year, we should search for Humdingers and Humbuggers."

Harry, Neville, and Ginny rolled their eyes and smiled together. Luckily, if Luna noticed, she pretended not to and was unfazed. Before another word could be spoken, the four friends on the couch…and everyone else in the room…turned their attention to the knocking on the front door.

Ron quickly jumped up from his seat, not noticing or caring that Katie Bell jumped into the chair after he vacated it. He'd expected Hermione to come through the Floo…hence perching on the chair, watching the fireplace like a hawk…but there was always a chance she'd decided to come to the front door. Of course, as soon as he opened the door and saw Seamus Finnegan, Dean Thomas, Lavender Brown, and Parvati Patil smiling up at him, his hopes died a quick death.

"Happy flat-warming!" Lavender squealed, her voice cracking a little; it sounded strained, and Ron couldn't help but notice that she was wearing a turtleneck blouse, despite the warm weather. Obviously, Lavender wanted to hide the scars from being mauled by Fenrir Greyback. Absentmindedly, Ron found himself checking the cuffs of the long-sleeve shirt he, himself, wore to cover up his own scars.

"Welcome to the party," Ron said, doing his best not to stare at Lavender's neck. He couldn't help remembering how much she loved wearing low-cut tops; that turtleneck must be killing her.

"Here!" Lavender said, handing him a glass bowl large enough to bathe a house-elf in.

"Err…thanks," Ron said dubiously, "What is it?"

"It's the flat-warming gift, silly," Lavender said with a proud smile, "It's from me and Parvati. Seamus and Dean got you Firewhiskey," she said, shooting a disappointed look at the two boys standing next to her.

"T'anks f'r spoilin' da su'prise, Lav," Seamus chuckled, holding up two bottles of Old Ogden's Best with bows tied around the necks of the bottles, "Besides, I'm sure dat Ron an' George'll get more use outta mine an' Dean's gift dan 'ey do outta yers an' Parvati's."

"The gift Parvati and I got for them is perfect!" Lavender snapped.

"It's a big bowl," Ron interjected, laughing at Lavender's assertions that it was the perfect gift. He may have been willing to spare Luna's feeling for _her_ unusual gift, but he didn't feel the same generosity of spirit towards Lavender…no doubt in some way thanks to the Christmas gift she gave him when they were dating, "I wouldn't call it _perfect_; seems a bit daft to me."

"For your information, Ronald Weasley," Lavender growled, her eyes blazing angrily, "It's not just _a big bowl_," she said this last bit in a grunting mockery of his voice, "It's a punchbowl that's been enchanted to keep its contents hot or cold, depending on the type of punch you're making."

"Yeah, but when are we gonna need a giant punchbowl?" Ron asked, laughing at what he felt was the absurdity of the gift.

"Oh, I don't know, Ron," Lavender snapped viciously, "Maybe at a party…LIKE THIS ONE! And who are _you_ to talk about what is or isn't a good gift? I don't seem to recall you giving me one single gift the entire time we were going out…and that includes Christmas!! You're the daft one, Ron Weasley! In fact, you're _too_ daft to appreciate my…_our_…gift!" she snatched the bowl from Ron's hands and went storming off, "This gift is now _just_ for your brother! Don't you ever _dare_ use it, you horse's arse!"

Lav…calm down," Seamus said, trying to get her under control, "Remember what da healer said…ya've got ta keep yer temper and try not ta stress out."

Lavender shot Seamus an evil, angry look and he backed off, allowing her to continue her search for the elder Weasley Brother. He then made his way back to the Weasley he'd shared a dorm with for six years.

"I told 'er ya' wouldn't like da bloody bowl," Seamus said in his thick Irish accent, "'Course, I didn' reckon on ya' callin' it stupid ta 'er face. I t'ought ya' 'ad more tact dan 'at. But I guess if ya' did, you an' 'ermione wouldn't'a got in as many fights as ya' did."

Ron grunted and shrugged in response. Seamus was right, of course…Ron _should_ have been more tactful…both at present, when dealing with Lavender, and in the past with Hermione. Not that he was going to admit that to Seamus, though. Ron was not having a good night, and being dressed down by his ex-girlfriend in front of all his friends didn't help matters.

He looked to Dean and Parvati to see if, perhaps, one of them was on his side in the whole bowl kerfuffle, but Parvati merely scowled at him, since the gift had been from her as well, and Dean had moved off to talk with Harry, Ginny, Neville, and Luna as soon as Ron had called the bowl _daft_. Ron was on his own.

When Lavender returned from the kitchen without the bowl, she had a smug smile plastered on her face, and a pink-colored drink in her hand. Her smile turned into a scowl as she looked at Ron again. With a flip of her hair, she began stalking over towards Ron, but it was obvious Lavender wanted to talk to Seamus and not him.

"George simply _loved_ the punchbowl, Seamus," Lavender said with forced laughter in her strained voice, "He said he's going to make some punch just as soon as he finishes mixing up a pitcher of Centaur Slammers."

"Dat's great, Lav; I guess I was wrong about da bowl," Seamus replied, nodding.

"Don't worry about being wrong, Seamus," she said, shooting a sidelong glance at Ron, "There's a lot of that going around."

Ron opened his mouth and was about to say something, but Seamus cut across him.

"What're ya drinking, Lav?" Seamus asked, pointing to the bright pink liquid in her glass.

"George had just mixed up a pitcher of Stuttering Zombies for Angelina and Alicia when I got into the kitchen," Lavender explained, "I've never had one before…it's yummy! Want some?" Lavender held out her drink for Seamus, but he shook his head, pulling a face at her.

"Studderin' Zombies're too fruity f'r me," Seamus explained, moving towards the kitchen, the two bottles of Firewhiskey still in his hands. He shot Ron a look that said _be nice, or else!_ "I'm gonna give George 'is gift an' help 'im crack one'a dese lads open. I'll be right back."

As soon as Seamus was gone from view, the tension between Ron and Lavender became so thick you would have needed Godric Gryffindor's sword to cut it. An uncomfortable silence stretched between them for what seemed like an eternity, but was only a few seconds. Not surprisingly, it was Lavender who broke it.

"I suppose _you_ think a Stuttering Zombie is too fruity as well," she said hatefully, taking a sip from her glass. Lavender glared at him, and it was obvious…even to someone as thick as Ron…that her anger was not just about the bowl.

"I dunno," Ron replied, hoping to relieve the tension with a joke, "I've never met one before."

Lavender just stared at Ron as if she was taking in what he said and trying to figure out what to do with it. The corner of her mouth twitched a little, as if she was trying not to smile or laugh. Finally, a snorting sort of snigger escaped and a smile played across her lips.

"You're an idiot," she laughed, pushing him.

Ron smiled slightly, glad to have seemingly defused the situation with Lavender. Now, if only Hermione would show up, he could start to enjoy the party himself. There was another knock at the door, and once again Ron's face lit up with hope and expectation. Ron rushed to the door and yanked it open, but once again it was not Hermione; instead it was Lee Jordan and Verity.

"Cheers, Ron!" Lee said enthusiastically as he entered the flat. He grabbed Ron's hand and shook it vigorously, clapping him on the shoulder with the other hand. He moved into the sitting room, allowing Verity to enter behind him.

"Hello, Mr. Weasley," Verity said politely, smiling brightly, "I wanted to thank you and Mr. Weasley for inviting me to your party," the girl stepped into him and surprised Ron with a grateful hug.

"Err…you're welcome," Ron said, disengaging himself from Verity and closing the door after she and Lee had entered, "George…err…the other Mr. Weasley is in the kitchen if you want to thank him yourself."

"Alright, I will," the young woman said cheerily as she headed off into the kitchen in search of George. Lee followed her, intent on bidding a fond hello to his best friend.

As they entered the small kitchen, Lee and Verity found themselves inside a hive of activity. George was standing over the table, his wand overtop of a pitcher, using a Mixology spell to briskly blend together a batch of Howling Werewolves.

"Happy flat-warming, George!" Lee yelled as he clapped his best friend on the shoulder.

"Cheers, Lee!" George replied, smiling, "Care for a drink?"

"Don't mind if I do," Lee said with a smile. He held up a glass that George quickly filled from his freshly mixed pitcher of Howling Werewolves. Lee took a long sip of the drink and smiled, "Just like Mum used to make!"

"I always knew there was a reason I liked your mum," George joked. He saw Verity standing in the doorway and shot her a winning smile, "Welcome to the Weasley Brothers' flat, Verity!"

"Thanks, Mr. Weasley," the young woman said with a smile. She moved quickly across the small room and gave him a quick hug and a peck on the cheek, "And thank you so much for inviting me to your party. You and your brother are just so kind!"

"Aren't they, though?" Angelina Johnson interjected, her voice a bit too syrupy for the evil glare she had in her eye.

"Come on, Lee, let's go dance!" Alicia said quickly as she noticed the look on her roommate's face. She grabbed Lee's hand and pulled him from the room before he could protest.

"Err…Verity…would you like something to drink?" George asked as he pulled himself out of his employee's embrace. Angelina's glare hadn't been lost on him, and he knew he had to get the young woman out of the kitchen quickly.

"Pumpkin juice is fine with me," Verity said, "I'm really not a big drinker."

George quickly handed her a glass of chilled pumpkin juice and directed her towards the door of the kitchen, "You know what you should do? You should go ask Ronnie to dance with you…he's been moping all night…but I know you could cheer him up."

"Really? You think so?" Verity asked, looking out into the sitting room where Ron didn't seem to be enjoying himself very much, "Well, okay. I love dancing."

Verity took her glass of pumpkin juice and left the kitchen, intent on getting the _younger_ Mr. Weasley to dance with her in an attempt to get him to enjoy himself. It was a party after all. He should have fun at his own party!

As soon as Verity was gone from the kitchen, George looked sheepishly at Angelina who was standing with her arms folded across her chest and an angry look on her face.

"That was an _awfully_ friendly greeting for an employee, George," Angelina said, quirking an eyebrow at him, "Do I need to start worrying about the sorts of things you're _doing_ in that joke shop of yours all day?"

"Now, calm down, Angie," George said, holding his hands up defensively, "It's not like that. Verity's a sweet girl…she's just really friendly."

"I _saw_ how friendly she is, George Weasley!" Angelina snapped moving towards him menacingly.

"Wait a tick," George said, giving Angelina a curious look, "How is it that you've seen Alicia and Katie hug and kiss me…more vigorously, mind you…dozens of times without comment; and Verity hugs me once and gives me a simple peck on the cheek and you look about ready to cast one of the Unforgivables?"

"That's very simple, George," she said, stepping up to him and grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, "Alicia and Katie _know_ that you belong to _me_!" To prove her point, Angelina kissed George hard on the lips, more passionately and more vigorously than any of the simple kisses he'd received from any of the women so far tonight.

When she released him, George couldn't help but chuckle, "You do make a good point, Angie-love."

"Good," she smiled triumphantly, "So as long as _you_ remember it, and as long as little miss Verity is made aware, I won't need to dig out your old Beater's bat and treat the two of you like a couple of Bludgers."

"I never knew you could be so violent, Miss Johnson," he joked, reaching around behind her and giving her bum a brisk pinch.

"I like to win, Mr. Weasley," she replied, smirking saucily at the pinch, "And I will _do_ whatever it takes to get what I _want_."

"It's no bloody wonder they made you Quidditch captain," George replied, mirroring her smirk as he put his arms around her, "Even if you did have poor taste in Keepers."

"Need I remind you," Angelina said, draping her arms around his neck and stealing a quick kiss from him, "That the Keeper I picked _won_ us the Quidditch Cup _despite_ our best Beaters and our star Seeker getting themselves _banned_ _for life_! And…if I'm not mistaken…he won the Cup for Gryffindor the following year as well; seems to me I've got _excellent_ taste in Keepers."

"Well then, since you're such a big fan of Ronnie's," George said with mock indignation, "Maybe you should be out there snogging _him_, while I go find Verity or one of your roommates, and --…"

"Careful there, Georgie," Angelina said, her dark eyes glinting wickedly in the light of the kitchen, "You've already lost an ear…it'd be a shame if you lost another body part over something _daft_ you might have said. Remember, your girlfriend has already admitted a willingness to commit violent acts to get what she wants."

"This is true," he nodded, smiling broadly, "I suppose I shall have to find a way to appease her and her violent tendencies."

"You will…later," Angelina promised, kissing him once more, "For now, however, this is a party, and it's time you stopped playing _Mrs._ Weasley and left this ruddy kitchen! Verity isn't the only one who likes to dance!"

And with that, Angelina grabbed George's hand and led him out of the kitchen and into the sitting room where the actual party was taking place. _Chronicles of the Wayward Witch_, a slow, haunting ballad by Aphrodesia Somberville was now playing on the wireless, leading the people who'd been dancing to either sit down, or move a little bit closer.

Taking up a spot on the makeshift dance floor, Angelina wrapped her arms around George's neck and he put his arms around her waist and they began dancing…drawing a curious expression from Ron that quickly bloomed into a smile. The mystery of George's secret snogging partner appeared to be solved.

Ron was so engrossed watching his brother dancing that the sound of someone arriving by Floo completely escaped his notice; that is, until the new arrival made her way to his side and put an arm around his waist.

"They look cozy, don't they?" she asked, starling him enough to cause him to jump away from her.

"'Mione!" Ron exclaimed, shocked by happy, "I thought you'd never get here!"

"A girl likes to make an entrance, Ron," Hermione laughed at his reaction to her, "Of course, I wasn't expecting all eyes in the room to be focused on your brother and Angelina Johnson. They make a cute couple."

"I reckon," Ron shrugged, no longer paying attention to anyone or anything in the room except for his girlfriend. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, allowing a few tendrils of her brown curls to frame her face, and she was dressed in a white, sleeveless, button-down blouse and a black, knee-length, ruffled skirt. Ron knew nothing about fashion, but she certainly looked good to him. "You look great!"

"Thanks," Hermione replied, smiling brightly, always happy to receive a compliment from Ron. When he leaned in to give her a kiss on the lips, however, she turned and offered him only her cheek. When he looked at her, a hurt and confused expression on his face, Hermione uttered the four words a guy in a relationship never wants to hear, "We need to talk."

**-- End Chapter 34 --**

**

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Author's End Notes:** Okay, there you have it. Chapter 35, as it consists largely of stuff I've already written for the "extended cut" of Chapter 34, is already under way, but there is no estimate on when it will be finished. I don't want to get all stressy and panicky like I did back when I was posting one-a-day. That sort of schedule is fine for vitamins, but it was way too hectic for me!

I hope this was enjoyable, and at least somewhat worth the long wait. Hopefully I didn't lose too many readers with my extended absence. But look on the bright side, I'm waiting for story updates on fics that haven't been updated in FOUR YEARS! You guys only had to wait two weeks. Kinda puts things in perspective, dunnit?

And one, final, quick question. Does anybody but _me_ remember Eddie Murphy's attempt at a singing career? The Rick James-produced "classic" was where the title of this chapter came from. I think I seriously need to update my record collection. What's that? What do you mean "they don't make records anymore"??


	35. Let's Give 'Em Something to Talk About

**Author's Notes:** Two weeks. It's been two whole weeks since I posted. Y'know, I really wanted to get this one done inside of one week. However, the Fates had something else in mind for me. One night, as I was working into the wee hours of the morning, banging away on this chapter, my computer crashed just as I was about to press SAVE. For whatever reason, MS Word didn't back up the document like it usually does in such a situation, and I lost a considerable portion of what I had written. So, instead of having this thing ready for you inside of a week, here I am at exactly the two week mark from my last posting putting up the next chapter of the story.

I really DO hope not to take two weeks for the next chapter, but I honestly kind of enjoy the relaxed pace doing it every two weeks provides for me. Being able to relax while doing this story is kind of a new experience for me, but the thought of only putting out two chapters a month (roughly) is pretty discouraging. I'll see what I can do about getting the next chapter out in a week. But don't cry if it doesn't happen...I'm only human, and despite all evidence to the contrary, I do have a life.

**Edinburgh Love**, **Ann Malfoy**, **Cantletharrygo**, **CutewithAcapital-Q**, **fatyellowrat**, **Avanell**, **Dizzy0305**, **katie1985**, **Elytha**, **Trude**, **mugglemamma**, **emmy1124**, **Emma.Jane-HPfan**, **Moony3005**, **IsI Wisi**, **Lady Anja**, **embergrl9010**, **the written princess**, **MissFinnegan**, **Tiffany M**, **kareem33**, **randomguy1517**, **Shlesha**, **ronniemione**,** sarah-keyko**, **not for lack of trying**, **Emm04**, **Jacob's-One-Girl**, **Ravenhaired2**, **Nosta82**, **Aly-Cat 101**, **EnglishGirlVerity**,** marauders rox**, **Lane Joey**, **allenterrill**, **skippyboo**, **Larelles**, **kellymc1**, **xxafterglowxx**, **screamxheart**, **zsdvnn**, **Foxy-Steph**, **Kirsty-Luan**, **marvelous-fanwriter**, **hctb**, **ronlover997**, **HeatherRiddle**, **LadyInWriting**, **beautifulshamrock**, **shadowmonger**, **lemondrop43**, **watched 2 much tv**, **LaRay93**, **CwamBeta**, **Chick Flicks- Rock 'N' Roll**, **james87** have all reviewed my story, and as such they have my undying gratitude!

Aftermath is rated M for naughty stuff and language.

**Disclaimer:** JKR owns this lot...the lucky bint!

* * *

**"Aftermath"**

**Chapter 35 -- Let's Give 'Em Something to Talk About**

Ron couldn't hide the confusion and hurt in his eyes as he looked at Hermione after she turned away from his kiss. He looked around, and the eyes that weren't currently focused on George and Angelina dancing in the middle of the sitting room floor were focused on him and Hermione. A pitying look from Katie Bell, and a smug grin from Lavender Brown made his stomach drop.

"What do we need to talk about?" Ron asked brusquely. He wasn't aware of anything he did wrong, and he found himself folding his arms across his chest in a stance he'd often take when he and Hermione were having one of their rows back at Hogwarts.

"Not here, Ron," Hermione said, placing a hand on his arm as she looked around. She couldn't help noticing that Lavender and Parvati were watching them with interest, whispering back-and-forth to one another; a _We Need to Talk_ situation was obviously more gossip-worthy than George dancing with his new girlfriend, "Let's go to your room."

Ron's eyebrows shot up towards his hairline as his face paled considerably. Not only was there something they _needed_ to talk about, but it was of a sensitive enough nature that Hermione didn't want to discuss it in front of their friends at the party. Considering how, in the past, they'd never seemed to care who was around to bear witness to their blazing arguments in the Gryffindor common room, Hermione's current discretion did not bode well.

"Alright," Ron nodded numbly at Hermione's suggestion of retiring to his bedroom. He slowly made his way out of the sitting room, following her down the hallway to the room he'd allowed her to decorate. He couldn't help feeling like a man being led off to his doom. Walking into Azkaban Prison when the Dementors still served as guards couldn't have felt much worse.

Without waiting for Ron, Hermione opened the bedroom door and stepped inside. Ron hesitated slightly, taking a deep breath before following her in. This was bad; this was very bad. Ron was a serious contender for the title of _Thickest Boyfriend Ever_, but even he knew that _"we need to talk"_ was bad. Something he'd heard Seamus Finnegan tell him back in Sixth Year ran through his mind.

Hermione stood with her arms folded and her back to the door, looking out the bedroom window. There was a duffle bag on his bed that Ron hadn't noticed before, and he concluded that Hermione must have brought it with her. Ron was about to ask Hermione about the bag, but _"we need to talk"_ echoed in his brain and he doubted that she had brought him in here, away from the prying eyes of their friends, to discuss the contents of her bag.

_"We need to talk."_ This was going to be very, very bad. This was not about some ruddy bag. She wanted privacy, and she couldn't even look at him right now. The next few minutes were likely to be as bad as anything he had ever faced coming from Hermione; Ron was sure of it. This was the end.

_"We need to talk."_ Ron folded his arms across his chest and set his jaw. He spread his feet slightly to give himself more stability for the coming conflict. This was his battle stance, perfected in hundreds of heated rows with Hermione during their years of friendship. A friendship…a relationship…that was now obviously over; but he refused to let it go quietly.

_"We need to talk."_

"Well…?!" Ron broke the silence a bit harshly. His voice, like the rest of his body was gearing up for a blazing argument, "You wanted to talk, Hermione; so…_talk_! What is so bloody important that you had to drag me away from the party and all of our friends?" He knew, of course, but he wanted to hear it come from her own lips.

Hermione turned sharply at the sound of his voice. She had been about to tell him not to swear, but his tone had her looking quizzically at him. When she saw the way he was standing there, she couldn't help feeling a bit shocked and dismayed. He was mad at her for some reason; the stance said it all.

"Well, yes, I did," Hermione replied, her tone of voice growing harsh to match Ron's. It was a defensive response, born of years of arguing with him; it was all-but-automatic at this point. She didn't know why Ron was acting so put-out by her wanting to speak in private, especially considering her intended topic of discussion. Whatever it was that had gotten into him so suddenly, two people could play at that game, "I did want to talk, but if the party is so important to you, why don't I leave you to your fun, and I'll just go home?!"

"Oh, no you don't!" Ron snapped, "You're not leaving until you tell me why you're dumping me!"

Hermione's mouth gaped open. He thought she was dumping him? That would certainly explain the hostility, but where would he get such a ludicrous notion?

"What makes you think I'm dumping you?" she asked, her voice losing its venom. She knew she should just come out and tell him the truth and put an end to this misunderstanding, but her curiosity got the better of her. Hermione just _had_ to know from whence the idea that she was breaking up with him had originated.

"I may be an idiot," he growled, eyes glinting spitefully, "But I know what _we need to talk_ means."

"You're right, Ron," Hermione agreed, smirking. Before she could even finish her sentence, she could see Ron's demeanor change. His shoulders sagged and his face now bore an expression of ultimate despair; his arms dropped to his sides as all the fight seemed to drain right out of him, "You're an idiot. _We need to talk_ does _not_ mean _we need to break up_! It means WE NEED TO TALK!"

Ron's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. She wasn't dumping him. He wasn't going to lose her. He was a complete and utter prat for no good reason. His ears flashed red, and soon the rest of his face followed suit. Completely mortified by his reaction to Hermione's _"we need to talk"_, Ron dropped his eyes sheepishly and began staring at his feet.

"I thought…I mean…I'd always heard…" Ron was having trouble getting the words out. An explanation was in order, but he felt he had no excuse for the way he'd behaved…for jumping to conclusions and become hostile towards her.

"What did you hear, Ron?" Hermione asked, interrupting him. She put her hands on her hips in a typically defiant Hemione-esque way, but a smirk still played on her lips, "And from whom did you hear it?"

"Err…y'know…" he shrugged, unable to look her in the eye, "Blokes talk about things…at night…in the dorms…over Firewhiskey…"

"Ronald Weasley…!" she exclaimed in exasperation, her smirk fading only to be replaced by a stern, McGonagall-esque expression, "I don't know what is worse…the fact that you would take dating advice from the likes of Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom, Dean Thomas, and Seamus Finnegan of all people…or the fact that you would sneak Firewhiskey into the dorms! That is strictly against the rules, and you were a Prefect!!"

"'Mione," Ron chuckled, looking up at her. He couldn't help laughing at the way she was standing there, getting all worked up over rules he broke two years ago, "You _do_ realize that I haven't been a Prefect for quite some time now, right?"

"Yes, I _do_ realize that, Ron," Hermione snapped, "And don't you laugh! You are still in hot water with me, mister!"

"I know…and I'm sorry," he said, the laughter dying on his lips quickly, and his face once more taking on an apologetic look, "I'm a complete and total prat."

"Yes, you are," she nodded, still looking stern.

"I'm an idiot."

"A _big_ idiot!"

"A total twit."

"Indeed!"

"A right tosspot, I am, and…hey, you know you can stop agreeing with me here any time now," Ron said, scowling at her a bit as she nodded along each time he espoused how stupid he had been.

Hermione allowed a smile to cross her lips and she walked over to him, reaching up to stroke his cheek, "I'll stop agreeing as soon as you stop being right."

"Hey!"

She laughed at him, and stood up on her tip-toes to place a quick chaste kiss on his lips. "I can't believe you would assume I wanted to dump you because I said we needed to talk."

"That's Seamus' fault, that is," Ron said, deflecting the blame to where he felt it truly belonged, "He told us that every time a girl had told him _'we need to talk'_, it was because they wanted to break up."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "And did any of you thick-headed boys ever think that, maybe, the reason these girls were finishing with Seamus whenever they said _'we need to talk' _was because of how much of a _git_ Seamus is?"

"Err…well…the thought did cross my mind," Ron said, nodding, "But when I heard you saying '_we need to talk'_, thoughts of Seamus being a git were replaced by the mind numbing fear that you finally realized I'm rubbish as a boyfriend and you were finished with me."

"You're not rubbish, Ron," Hermione said sternly, looking him dead in the eye, "And if you don't stop saying that sort of thing about yourself, I really _will_ finish with you…understand?"

"Err…yeah…sorry," he mumbled. Still, he was confused about something, "If you aren't going to break up with me, then why wouldn't you let me kiss you earlier?"

"Ron…!" she rolled her eyes yet again, "We were in a room _surrounded_ by our friends! It's a bit too embarrassing to start snogging in front of those people!"

"We've kissed in front of people before," Ron reminded her, "Besides, who says we were going to start snogging?"

"We've never kissed in front of _those_ people before," Hermione explained. She knew that her fellow Gryffindors would be relentless in their teasing should she and Ron break out into a spontaneous kissing demonstration in front of them, "And _I_ say we would have started snogging. That's sort of what I wanted to talk to you about."

"You wanted to talk about snogging?" he asked, still confused.

She quirked an eyebrow at him, and gave him a look that sent tingles through Ron's body. It was a look of lust and longing.

"'Mione!" Ron exclaimed, shocked, "You don't mean…?"

Before Hermione could answer Ron's unfinished question, there was a knock on the bedroom door. The young couple rolled their eyes in unison at the intrusion. Before either one of them could see who it was, the door opened, and Seamus popped his head into the room.

"Oy, Ron!" Seamus called from the doorway, causing Ron to grimace and wonder _what now_? His former dorm-mate smiled at him and waved at Hermione, "I hope you two aren't having a knock-down-drag-out in here."

"What do you want, Seamus?" Ron said, his voice completely devoid of humor, "And make it quick."

"We want to get a game of cards going," Seamus said with a grin, "And I don't mean Exploding Snap. You interested?"

"Not right now," Ron said curtly, shaking his head, casting a glance back at Hermione.

"What about when you and Hermione are done…_talking_?" the Irishman asked with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

"Maybe," Ron said, shrugging. Playing cards with the boys was not exactly what he had planned for tonight, especially if Hermione really meant what he thought she did. Still, Ron figured Seamus might leave sooner if he placated him by seeming at least a bit interested, "Who's playing?"

"Me, Neville, Harry…I think Ginny…most likely Dean, if he can get off the ruddy dance floor," Seamus replied, "Right now the bloke's dancing with Luna Lovegood!"

The sound of the Screaming Horntails' wizard-rock anthem, _Wands a'Fire_ could be heard coming down the hall, and Ron could well imagine Luna doing one of her crazy dances to the pounding beat while Dean did his best to keep up.

"Parvati and I want to play, too," the raspy sound of Lavender Brown's voice made its way into the bedroom from somewhere behind Seamus.

Ron rolled his eyes again and glanced over at Hermione; she put her hand over her mouth to hide the minute smirk that was crossing her lips. Ron couldn't help wonder how many more of his old schoolmates were congregating in the hallway, and how long they'd been there.

Seamus grimaced at the intrusion and his head suddenly disappeared back into the hallway. "Lav, darlin', do you and Parvati even know _how_ to play poker?"

"It sounds dirty," Parvati said, her voice sounding a bit slurred from beyond the bedroom door.

"It's a Muggle card game," Seamus could be heard saying with a chuckle, "Me Da and his mates play once a month; they smoke cigars, eat crisps, and get drunk on Muggle beer. He says it's the best time he's ever had losing a week's pay!"

"You play with money?" Lavender asked, having never played before.

"Sure," Seamus said, smiling at her, "You gotta bet something, or it's just not as fun. 'Course, if you don't want to part with your hard-earned galleons, we could always play _strip_ poker." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at the two girls.

"Strip poker _definitely_ sounds dirty," Parvati said with a drunken giggle.

"I'm not playing strip poker," Lavender said sternly. She began unconsciously rubbing at her neck.

Seamus' eyes widened as he realized what having to get undressed in front of other people would mean for Lavender. He was about to say something when Ron poked his head out into the hall, an annoyed look on his freckled face.

"_No one_ is playing strip poker," Ron said sternly. The last thing he needed was drunken debauchery involving his old schoolmates while he was trying to spend time with Hermione.

"'Course not, mate, I was only fooling about," Seamus grinned, "So…where can we set up?"

"I don't care," Ron said, waving a hand dismissively, "Do it in George's room…he's not using it right now."

"Brilliant!" Seamus exclaimed, putting his arms around Parvati and Lavender and making his way up the hall to tell the others, "Thanks, Ron…now don't get too involved rowing with Hermione. We'll save a spot for you at the table."

"Don't bloody count on me showing up," Ron grumbled to himself as he shut the door and turned his back to it, once again facing Hermione. She had taken up a spot, sitting on the edge of his bed, watching and waiting patiently for the audience to leave the hallway.

She smiled brightly as he looked at her, "Where were we, Ron?"

Ron had done his best to resist the urge to slam his bedroom door shut and cast an Imperturbable charm on it so that he and Hermione could finish their conversation without interruption. Playing cards with his drunken friends was far down on the list of things Ron wanted to do right now. Right now, he wanted to know what was in her bag, and whether or not Hermione meant exactly what he thought she meant.

"I believe you were about to tell me what you…_we_…needed to talk about," he said, moving over to sit next to her on the bed, "I don't suppose it involves what's in your bag, does it?" His curiosity about the bag had gotten the better of him…especially if she meant what he thought she meant.

"A bit," she confessed reaching over and pulling the duffle bag onto her lap. She unzipped it but turned away from Ron so he couldn't see what was inside, "No peeking, though."

"Fine…I won't peek," Ron consented, "Now tell me what's inside the bloody bag!"

Hermione couldn't help but laugh at his excitement. He was so cute, like a kid at Christmas. His ebullience was practically contagious, "No swearing, Ron. I'm not going to show you what's in here if you keep swearing."

"Alright, alright," he said, rolling his eyes, "But c'mon, show me already!"

Hermione smiled happily as she reached into the bag, but before she could pull out whatever she had hidden in that bag of hers, there was another knock on the door. Ron growled in annoyance and turned to face the door. He was about to yell "sod off" at whomever was interrupting them _this_ time, but before he could open his mouth, the door opened and his best mate popped his head in.

"Alright there, Ron?" Harry asked, looking at his best mate with a concerned look flashing in his emerald green eyes. Ron's anger was displayed on his face, and Harry assumed…erroneously…that it had something to do with Hermione.

"Alright," Ron grunted, grimacing slightly. He didn't want to tell Harry to bugger off, but the Boy-Who-Lived could practically be rechristened the Boy-With-Impeccably-Bad-Timing. He couldn't help glaring at Harry with a look that said "go away". Harry, however, was oblivious to it.

"Hermione?" Harry cast a look at the young woman who had been like an older sister to him for the better part of the last seven years.

"Never better," Hermione assured him, smiling brightly at her best friend. She, like Ron, was getting annoyed at the interruptions, but she was much more tactful than the man she loved, and was therefore able to fake a smile much more readily than Ron.

"Just checking," Harry replied, "I heard a disturbing rumor that you guys were in here breaking up."

Hermione rolled her eyes for what felt like the eighteenth time that night, "And the progenitor of this rumor would be…?"

"Uh…well…Seamus and Lavender both seemed pretty convinced that you were in here breaking Ron's heart," the black-haired young man explained a bit sheepishly.

"And you believed them?" the bushy-haired brunette replied, quirking an eyebrow at her friend, "Honestly, Harry, I thought you knew me better than that."

As annoyed as Ron was by Harry's interruption, he couldn't help but smile. Anytime he heard Hermione begin a sentence with "honestly", he knew someone was in for a bit of a lecture, and he couldn't help but smile about it…even when it was directed at him. If Hermione only knew how many times he had said something he'd knew she'd lecture him about, just so he could hear her say, _"Honestly, Ron…"_

"I _do_ know you better than that," Harry said quickly, trying his best to stay out of trouble with Hermione. He'd seen Ron on the receiving end of Hermione's wrath far too many times in the past to want to put himself in that position, "But back in Sixth Year, Seamus made a pretty convincing argument that _'we need to talk'_ meant breaking up."

Ron chuckled at the mention of Seamus and his break-up experiences. He couldn't help finding humor in the fact that he and Harry had jumped to the same conclusion concerning Hermione's sitting room declaration, and both had cited Seamus and his dating experience as to blame. Great minds truly did think alike…or, at least, the minds of young men with negligible dating experience.

"I suppose I shall have to _thank_ our dear Mr. Finnegan for supplying the two of you with such a skewed definition of what it means to _talk_," Hermione replied. Her tone was mirthless, but there was a twinkle of humor in her warm, brown eyes.

"As long as you two aren't breaking up, I'll be going," Harry nodded, preparing to retract his head from the room and return to the party, "Don't be too long, though; there are a lot of rumors floating around the party as to what it is you two really _are_ doing in here…even if the break-up rumor was wrong."

"We'll be out shortly," she assured him.

Harry nodded and left, closing the door behind him. Once their best friend was gone, Hermione and Ron turned their attention back towards each other.

"Considering your dating experience to this point," Hermione said in her best, authoritarian, Prefect's voice, "I'll forgive you for going all nutters on me earlier."

"Thanks," Ron said sheepishly, blushing to the tips of his ears, "Like I said before…I'm rubbish at this whole boyfriend thing."

"You're not rubbish, Ron," she huffed, getting tired of hearing him tear himself down, "We're _both_ new to this sort of thing, so there's got to be a bit of a learning curve. Just don't let it happen again."

Ron nodded and smiled to himself at the term _learning curve_; he enjoyed learning Hermione's curves during their month together, and hoped to spend some time tonight re-learning those curves and more. Hermione noticed his little smile and quirked an eyebrow at him.

"What?" she asked, trying to read his eyes for an answer.

"Err…nothing," he lied, blushing under her gaze, "Just…erm…glad you're with me."

She folded her arms across her chest and gave him a stern, appraising look, as if she didn't quite believe him, and was trying to suss out just what it was he was keeping from her. However, when Ron smiled that lopsided smile at her…the one he reserved just for her…Hermione's icy, businesslike veneer melted and she started to feel quite warm and squishy inside.

To show that all was forgiven and that there really was no chance whatsoever of them breaking up, Hermione put her arms around Ron's neck and pulled him into her for a deep, meaningful kiss. While they were wrapped up in the kiss, Ron slowly slid a hand over the coarse surface of Hermione's bag, searching for the unzipped opening and the mysteries that lay within.

Hermione sensed his movement, however, and quickly slapped his hand away, pulling back from the kiss.

"I said _no peeking_, Ronald!" she said with mock indignation. A playful little smile was tugging at the corners of her mouth, and her eyes sparkled gaily.

"I know what you said, 'Mione," Ron whinged, pouting at her, "But it's not nice to keep a bloke in suspense. What've you got in that bloody little bag of yours?!"

Hermione's brows furrowed and she cut him a harsh, reprimanding look.

"Err…clearly, what I _meant_ to say," Ron backpedaled upon seeing the look she was giving him, "Was 'could you _please_ show me whatever it is that brought in that…erm…_nice_….little bag of yours'…please?"

Hermione couldn't help but smile. Ron was just so cute! And he was all hers! Surely he deserved to know at least _something_ that was in the bag.

"Since you asked so _nicely_," she said, smirking at him, "I'll _tell_ you what's in here; it's your flat-warming gift."

Ron cocked an eyebrow at her. He thought for sure that the contents of the bag had something to do with what they were going to _talk_ about. Unless she was saying _that_ was going to be his present. If so, well, then Hermione was absolutely the best gift-giver ever! It would totally make up for her giving him a homework planner for Christmas during Fifth Year.

"What is it?" Ron asked, his voice quavering a bit with anxiousness and nervousness as he looked back-and-forth between Hermione and the bag in her lap. It definitely wasn't a tree, a giant bowl, or something to protect him against imaginary creatures. That much he knew.

"Close your eyes and hold out your hands," Hermione said, grinning happily. Her father used to make her do that whenever he would give her some little gift just for being his little girl, and it always made her giddy. Now, being the one on the giving end, it made her just as giddy.

She waited patiently for Ron to comply with her wishes, even though she was bubbling up on the inside, feeling anything _but_ patient. When he finally did comply with her…quite reluctantly…she pulled the flat-warming gift she brought specifically for Ron out of the bag and gingerly placed it into his large hands.

"Alright, you can look now."

Opening his eyes and looking down, Ron's mouth dropped open in shock at what he was holding in his hands. Beneath two strands of neatly tied ribbon…one scarlet, one gold…lay a book. It was not just any book, however. What Ron held in his hands, tied up neatly with a bow in the colors of House Gryffindor was a care-worn, well-read, dog-eared copy of _Hogwarts, A History_.

Ron looked up at Hermione, confusion clouding his blue eyes. "Hermione, is this…?"

"I've read it more times than I can count," she offered by way of an explanation, "And since you _did_ offer to read it…"

"Wait…I _what_?!" Ron's confusion was escalated and his eyebrows shot up into his hairline.

Hermione smiled mischievously at the consternation written all over Ron's face as she pulled a carefully folded piece of parchment from out of her bag. Clearing her throat, she unfolded the parchment and began reading the words scrawled upon it. Words written in an untidy scrawl that was all too familiar to Ron.

"'Dear 'Mione,'" she read aloud, eyes shining. Ron's face clouded as he realized that this was a letter from _him_. No doubt an _incriminating_ letter judging by the glee radiating from her lovely face, "'You've just got to come to dinner. Please? It's real important to Mum that the whole family be here, and you know she includes you when she says _family_. Please, 'Mione, I'll do anything to get you to come. I'd even read _Hogwarts, A History_…that's how desperate I am to get you to come. Please, please, please, please, please! Love, Ron.'"

Ron covered his face with his hands and hung his head in shame. He had been so desperate to get her to attend his family's dinner with the Minister for Magic that he would have…and did…promise her anything. Little did he imagine that a letter he sent weeks ago would come back to haunt him now.

"You know," Hermione began, reaching a hand over to gently rub his knee, "I had already decided to attend your family's dinner after you brought Crookshanks to me…"

"But at the dinner," Ron interrupted, "You said you'd only decided to come because I called you childish and immature."

She quirked an eyebrow at the reminder, and Ron paled slightly hoping he hadn't opened up another can of flobberworms.

"Yes, well, I couldn't very well let you get away with calling me those things, now could I, Ronald?"

"Err…no?"

"The truth is, I was planning to attend," she repeated, "But then all these letter started winging their way to me…poor Pig, he must have been exhausted by the time you were finished. And since you saw fit to make certain promises in some of those letters, I decided to hold you to them."

"So you really expect me to read this?" he asked, looking down at the daunting tome that was so carefully and lovingly tied in ribbon.

"Well, I suppose you don't _have_ to," Hermione said, sounding a bit disappointed, "I just wanted you to have it because…well…it's very important to me, and since Hogwarts is where _our_ history started, it just seemed natural to want to give you this."

He looked into her eyes and saw the love showing so clearly in those chocolaty-brown orbs; love that was for him and him alone. He smiled brightly and leaned in to kiss her.

"I love it," Ron said, reaching up to gently caress her cheek, "I may not be able to read it as fast as you…but I promise, I will read it."

"Thank you, Ron," she smiled brightly at him, and he knew he would do whatever it took to keep that smile on her face for as long as he could.

Ron stood up and moved over to the bookshelf by the window. He carefully placed the book she'd given him in a spot of prominence on the shelf, facing out into the rest of the room as if on display. He turned and saw that Hermione was smiling proudly. He moved to her and leaned down, kissing her once more.

"There was another gift," Hermione said once they broke the kiss and Ron had taken a seat next to her again, "Although I'm a bit embarrassed about how I acquired it."

"Why would you be embarrassed?" Ron asked, looking concerned.

"Well…I had a crush on you for the longest time, Ron," she explained, "You fought a troll for me and sacrificed yourself for Harry and me; you belched up slugs for an entire day because you were defending _my_ honor. You threw yourself in front of Sirius Black…twice…to protect us…once on a broken leg! Even though we argued, whenever danger threatened, you were like some sort of white knight, throwing yourself at danger to protect me. How could a girl _not_ fall for that?

"You remember how Colin Creevy was always taking photographs of everything? Usually it was Harry, but every once in a while, he'd take a picture of something…or _someone_…else. Sometimes, it just happened to be you," she started to blush as her embarrassing secret was being revealed, "I…I paid Colin to make copies of any of the photos he took with you in them. I have quite a scrapbook of our Third, and Fifth Years. I even have a few of Second, Fourth and Sixth…although not many.

There were obvious reasons for Hermione not having many photos from those three years. Colin and Hermione had both been petrified during Second Year, and Viktor Krum and Lavender Brown had come between them during their Fourth and Sixth years.

"So…I've got all these photographs of you…and one of them was taken Fifth Year, during a D.A. meeting," she was too embarrassed by her confession…the revelation of her schoolgirl obsession with him…to actually face Ron right now, so she kept her eyes locked on the bag in her lap, "It's you, of course, and you're standing with Fred, George, and Ginny."

Hermione took the framed wizard photo out of the bag and handed it to Ron. Just as she said, he was standing there with the twins and Ginny, the lot of them dressed in their Hogwarts uniforms. The four redheads smiled for the camera and after a few moments, Ginny started waving while the twins turned and gave each other a mischievous look.

"This is brilliant," Ron said, looking over to Hermione. She was still looking down at the bag, "I know George will love it. He'll probably want to hang it right in the sitting room near the mantle."

"I'm glad," Hermione said, nervously fidgeting with the straps of her bag. She was still to embarrassed to look at him, "And about the other photographs…the ones in my scrapbook…"

"That's brilliant, too," he said, reaching out and taking her hand reassuringly, "I wish I'd have thought of that; I only have a couple of pictures of you from Fifth and Sixth year that I made Colin give me…under threat of detention."

"Ron, you didn't!" she exclaimed, finally looking up at him, an outraged expression on her face, "How could you abuse your Prefect powers that way?"

"Well, I never actually _gave_ Colin detention," Ron said with a shrug, "It was just a threat. Besides…I'd break every rule there is for a chance to closer to you."

She blushed as he said that. Hermione knew that it was true. Ron would do whatever it took to be close to her. He had done ever since they'd been friends. After all, wasn't that what their rows were…a chance for the two of them to concentrate solely on each other? Arguing or not, they held each other's attention, and the rest of the world faded away when they started up. Now that they could do more than argue, it wouldn't be any less true when they gave each other their full attention…the rest of the world would just fade away.

If they'd let it.

Yet another knock on the bedroom door drew Ron and Hermione's attention away from each other and back to the world outside. Before Ron could get up to answer the door, or even call out to tell the intruder to come in, the door flew open and a distressed Neville Longbottom stood in the door.

Ron heaved a great, frustrated sigh as he stood up and crossed the room towards his friend.

"Neville…please don't take this the wrong way," Ron said moving over and starting to push the young man out of the room, "But bugger off!"

"Ron!" Hermione snapped at him with exasperation. She got up and pushed Ron aside to see what Neville wanted, "What's wrong Neville?"

"I…I really think you two should come out here…now!" he said, his eyes shooting back-and-forth between Ron and Hermione, "It's Harry…!"

Ron and Hermione exchanged a worried glance for a split second before the two of them raced out of the room and hurried down the hall towards the sitting room. When they got there, the party was a scene of complete chaos. George was physically restraining Harry who stood over Dean Thomas. Dean was sitting on the floor holding his right eye while everyone else just stood around gawking at them.

"What the bloody Hell just happened?!" Ron exclaimed as he took in the sight before him.

Neville moved up next to Ron, having caught up with him and Hermione after they scarpered out of the bedroom, "Harry attacked Dean and punched him right in the face," Neville explained.

"Why would Harry do such a thing?" Hermione asked, her voice choked with confusion.

"Because," Neville said, looking at the two new arrivals, "Dean kissed Ginny."

**-- End Chapter 35 --**

**Author's End Notes:** I told one of my reviewers that I'd give Harry a bigger role in this chapter, and he barely even appeared in it at all. Must'a been Opposite Day when I said that. I also said I'd reveal what, if anything, happened with Ginny and Dean durin their time together...I had my fingers crossed when I said that! I do intend to both give Harry more "screen time" (even though this is a Ron/Hermione fic above all else) and reveal the secrets of Dean and Ginny's time together...next chapter. Maybe. Of course, you can't count on me right now to follow through since I believe the bloody tossers at Starbucks gave me DECAF when I clearly asked for "black coffee with as much caffeine as you can legally put in a drink without killing someone".


	36. Saturday Night's All Right for Fighting

**Author's Notes:** Okay, well, it's been two weeks, so you all know what that means right? It's time for your regular dosage of "Aftermath". I've spent a lot of time these last few days working hard to get this chapter out on schedule. It almost didn't happen, and I'll tell you why...I had the chapter halfway done and decidedto SCRAP everything I had written on Monday. That meant a complete re-write of the entire chapter...and, well, because you people are worth it...and because the winged monkeys won't let me have coffee any more unless I did it, I...well...did it. I completely re-wrote the chapter...and I only had to forgoe any sort of a social life tonight (Friday) and stay up 'til 3:30 in the bloody morning to do it!

You're probably asking yourselves, "But Uncle BlackHawk, why?! Why scrap the chapter when it was almost done and you were closing in on the post date? Are you a complete Fkwit?" (Call me insane, but when reading that last bit, you have to do it while imagining a voice similar to Cindy-Lou Who Who's no more than two when she said "Why Mr. Sandy Claus? Why? Why are you taking our Christmas tree? Why?". Why do you have to change the sound of your inner voice to that of Cindy-Lou Who's Who's no more than two? I dunno. You're the ones who keep coming back to read the ravings of a self-diagnosed madman. So maybe we should put YOU under the stethoscope...err...occiloscope...err...microscope! Yeah! Microscope!!)

Uhm...where was I? OH! Right. Why'd I do a bonehead thing like scrap the chapter. Well, while writing the dialogue-rich chapter, I came to the sudden POOF! realization that the dialogue was leading you (the readers) off in directions I had no interests or intentions of following! And since I'd LIKE to wrap this story up by Chapter 50, so I can concentrate on some other stories I've been dying to write, opening up new cans of worms seemed like a bad idea, since I barely had enough time to fish with the worms I already opened. (How's that for an analogy? Does it track? Or does it just make me sound weirder?)

So, here's Chapter 36. Some questions get answered. Some don't. Some stuff happens. Some doesn't. I was going to have Death Eaters jump out of the giant fat-warming cake, but they got in BEFORE the cake was baked, and, well, it was a HUGE mess,so I had to scrap that idea as well...and if anybody sees that baker, he owes me my deposit back for the cake!!

As always, I'd like to give a shout out to the people who've reviewed my work in he past: **Edinburgh Love**, **Ann Malfoy**, **Cantletharrygo**, **CutewithAcapital-Q**, **fatyellowrat**, **Avanell**, **Dizzy0305**, **katie1985**, **Elytha**, **Trude**, **mugglemamma**, **emmy1124**, **Emma.Jane-HPfan**, **Moony3005**, **IsI Wisi**, **Lady Anja**, **embergrl9010**, **the written princess**, **MissFinnegan**, **Tiffany M**, **kareem33**, **randomguy1517**, **Shlesha**, **ronniemione**,** sarah-keyko**, **not for lack of trying**, **Emma04**, **Jacob's-One-Girl**, **Ravenhaired2**, **Nosta82**, **Aly-Cat 101**, **EnglishGirlVerity**,** marauders rox**, **Lane Joey**, **allenterrill**, **skippyboo**, **Larelles**, **kellymc1**, **xxafterglowxx**, **screamxheart**, **zsdvnn**, **Foxy-Steph**, **Kirsty-Luan**, **marvelous-fanwriter**, **hctb**, **ronlover997**, **HeatherRiddle**, **LadyInWriting**, **beautifulshamrock**, **shadowmonger**, **lemondrop43**, **watched 2 much tv**, **LaRay93**, **CwamBeta**, **Chick Flicks- Rock 'N' Roll**, **james87**, **griffyndorgirl**,**iriepotter**,and **Trebius** have all submitted reviews for my story, and I just want to give them all a big THANK YOU!!

Although not a lot of naughty stuff or bad language has happened since way back when in this story, "Aftermath" is still rated M for adult language and naughty stuff.

**Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling owns this stuff, and if anybody tells her the stuff I've done to her characters, I swear I will hunt you down and force feed you peppermintMentos and Diet Coke until you explode!!

* * *

**"Aftermath"**

**Chapter 36 -- Saturday Night's Alright for Fighting**

"Bloody Hell, Harry!" Ron exclaimed crossing the distance across the sitting room in a few strides of his long legs. He stood next to his best mate, who was still being held by George, and looked down at Dean Thomas, "You planted one on him good," the redhead said, sounding a bit proud of his best friend.

"RON!!"

Ron Weasley jumped, startled, as half the room – including his girlfriend, his brother, his best friend who did the hitting, and his former dorm-mate who was the one hit – yelled his name in unison, sounding exasperated by the praise it seemed he was heaping on Harry for his brief display of pugilism.

"What?!" Ron snapped looking around the room, blushing a bit at the sea of faces full of consternation that were focused on him right now.

Hermione shook her head and clucked her tongue at him in a very Mrs. Weasley-esque manner as she stepped up next to him. "What's this all about, Harry?" she asked, turning her attention and her consternation away from her boyfriend and onto her best friend, "Why in the world would you hit Dean?"

Dean had kissed Ginny, or so Neville said, but Hermione was smart enough to know how these things went. A person often saw one thing, but when they reported on _what_ they saw, they claimed to have seen something else entirely. Before the logical mind of Hermione Granger could accept that her friend had beat up their other friend, she'd have to hear the words from his own mouth.

"He kissed Ginny," Harry said quietly, looking away from everybody, and sounding completely embarrassed and ashamed of his sudden bout of violence.

"Understandable," Ron nodded, placing a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder, "Seeing the two of them snog back in Sixth Year always made _me_ want to lay him out, too…and I'm just her brother."

"Ron…!" Hermione called out, exasperation once more evident in her voice, "It is _not_ 'understandable' that Harry would punch Dean for kissing Ginny! They're friends, and friends don't treat each other that way! What Harry did was wrong, and you shouldn't be treating him as if he's a hero for this!"

"Well, there's no need to treat him like a bloody Death Eater, either!" Ron shot back, falling into the familiar grind of arguing with Hermione over the simplest things. Not that _this_ was a simple situation, but being able to row with her about it certainly made it feel as if it were, "Friends don't go around snogging other friend's girlfriends! I say Dean got what he deserved!!"

"_Got what he deserved_?!" Hermione repeated, starting to shout. By this point, she and Ron had separated themselves from Harry and were standing about a foot apart, yelling at each other, all-but-oblivious to the rest of the people standing around, watching them, "All he did was _kiss_ her! It isn't like they were shagging!!"

"And all Harry did was _hit_ him!" Ron countered, "It's not like he beat the bloody piss out of him!!"

"Oy!" George yelled at the top of his lungs, causing the two of them to jump in surprise, "Will you two stop bickering already?! You're in love, remember? Stop acting like you're back in Hogwarts and that you _haven't_ spent every possible moment together snogging each other stupid over the past month!!"

Ron and Hermione blushed together in embarrassment, each of them looking sheepishly at the other before smiling shyly. "Sorry," they both said at the same time. Hermione reached out and took Ron's hand and he squeezed it affectionately.

"Good," George said, rolling his eyes, "Now that Ronniekins and his ickle girlfriend have put an end to their re-creation of their last six years at Hogwarts, we can deal with the matter at hand: Dean kissing Ginny, and Harry socking him a good one for it."

"I didn't kiss Ginny," Dean said as he unsteadily climbed to his feet. Seamus moved to his side and gave his best mate some support until his knees stopped wobbling, "She kissed me."

The room got deathly quiet and all eyes turned towards Dean Thomas. Ron and Harry both opened their mouths as if to protest, to call the young man an unmitigated liar, but Hermione headed them off at the pass; she held up a hand that silenced their protests before they even left their mouths.

"Perhaps we need to hear what happened from an unbiased observer," Hermione said, hoping a dose of logic would help alleviate the problem and put an end to the contention filling the room. She looked around the sitting room at the faces staring at her, trying to decide who best to ask for the straight story.

"I can tell you what happened," Luna Lovegood announced, her voice, as usual, having an ethereal, otherworldly quality to it.

All eyes – including the rolling eyes of Ron Weasley – focused on the slight, blonde-haired girl. She moved over and stood between Dean and Harry, taking the hand of each young man before she went into her explanation.

"It really wasn't Dean's fault, Harry," Luna explained, looking at the bespectacled Boy-Who-Lived, "You had gone to talk to Ron and Hermione, and a song came on the wireless that Ginny really wanted to dance to. It was a very nice song…by Wandjina Neverwinter…it's a shame she got spattergroit from an angry Kneazle. I understand that the cure for spattergroit is quite involved, and --…"

"Uh…Luna…you're drifting off-topic," Harry interrupted, trying hard not to be snippy with the girl. He wasn't angry with _her_ after all.

"Am I? I'm sorry," Luna said with a smile, "Ginny wanted to dance, and you said before that you didn't like to dance, so she asked Dean. He's a very good dancer, and Ginny must have enjoyed herself very much…because she kissed him after the song ended. You know the rest…"

"And that's supposed to make me feel better?" Harry snapped, looking first at the blonde girl who smiled back at him, perhaps not understanding the seriousness of the situation for Harry, and then looking at Dean who at least had to courtesy to look shamefaced about what happened.

"I didn't know I was supposed to be making you feel better, Harry," Luna replied, her voice still as light and airy as ever, "I thought you just wanted to know what _really_ happened. But, if you want me to make you feel better, I'm sure Ginny's actions were motivated by Nargles; I'm sure some were in here _before_ I gave Ron the anti-Nargle ward."

It was Harry's turn to look shamefaced now, and he looked down at his shoes. He felt horrible, and not just because his girlfriend had kissed another bloke. He felt bad for hitting Dean, for snapping at Luna, and for bringing Ron and George's party to a screeching halt. He was about so say something, to apologize for his behavior, but Ron cut him off.

"Now that's just completely mental!" Ron protested once Luna had finished her story, "Why would Ginny kiss Dean when she's dating Harry? It makes no sense!"

"It does if, perhaps, Ginny wanted to make Harry jealous," Hermione said, quickly countering him, "It obviously worked."

Ron shot her a look that was both quizzical and fearful all at once, "Why on Earth would a girl _want_ to make her boyfriend jealous? That's just _stupid_!"

There was a collective snort of derision at Ron's words from most of the females in the room…including Hermione. This caused Ron's eyebrows to shoot up into his hairline and his eyes widen. He knew for a fact that he would _never_ understand women; he just hoped that Hermione never chose this particular tactic to make him jealous.

"Where _is_ Ginny?" Hermione asked, changing the subject and looking away from Ron to some of the other occupants of the room, "Maybe if we heard _her_ side of the story…"

"She ran outside after Harry…" George made a punching motion into his hand and jerked his head towards Dean, "She seemed a bit…distraught."

"Someone should go talk to her," Hermione said, moving towards the door. She was a bit surprised that someone hadn't gone after Ginny, but a quick look around the room made her realize that these weren't the most sensitive people in the world. Her hand was on the doorknob when Harry grabbed her wrist, stopping her.

"I'll go," he said, still looking down at his feet, unable to face anyone in the room due to his embarrassment.

Hermione was about to voice her concerns that Harry might not be the best one to speak to Ginny at the moment, since she was _obviously_ fleeing him and his barbaric outburst when she ran out in the first place…but Ron stopped her. Placing an arm around her, he gently led her away from the door.

"That's a good idea, mate," Ron said, nodding at Harry, "You two obviously have some stuff to talk over."

Harry nodded and made his way out the door, leaving the chaos inside the flat behind him.

"Well, _this_ is disappointing," George said, putting his arm on his younger brother's shoulder and leaning against him.

"What?" Ron asked, shooting a sidelong glance at his brother.

"Typically," George began, explaining things to his brother in a lightly condescending way, "When the fight breaks out, the party's over."

"Yeah?" Ron narrowed his eyes at his brother, wondering what George was getting at.

"So…the party's over," George sobbed, bringing his hand to his face to hold back the mock tears, "And no one had any of the Wheezes!"

Outside, Harry was oblivious to George's distress over nobody having been turned into a canary, or having their lips pucker permanently, or any number of other results of the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes he had slipped amongst the regular party food. Harry was too busy plucking up his courage for his confrontation with Ginny.

He stood on the landing outside the flat taking deep breaths. He wasn't sure what to expect when he came face-to-face with Ginny. This was something he hadn't had to deal with before. Did her kissing another guy constitute cheating? Did it mean she wanted to dump him in favor of someone else? Should he act angry at her for her kissing Dean, or should he act recalcitrant towards her for his _hitting _Dean?

These questions went unanswered as Harry was spurred into action by the soft sounds of sobbing coming from the small courtyard below. Making his way down the cast-iron stairs to the cobblestones below, Harry found Ginny perched on the short wall next to the stairs, practically leaning over the large rubbish bin. He was about to open his mouth and announce his presence, when Ginny began vomiting into the bin.

Despite the questions and fears circulating through his mind at this point, upon seeing his girlfriend in physical discomfort, whatever boyfriend instincts Harry possessed kicked in and he rushed to her side. Placing a comforting hand on her back, he used his other hand to move her long, red hair out of her face to keep it from getting in the way.

Ginny continued to be sick in the rubbish bin for several minutes. When she was finally finished…at least for now…Ginny shakily wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, and made a point of looking anywhere but at the young man currently rubbing her back in a soothing manner. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, her nose was running, and she was fairly certain there was puke in her hair…in short, she was a mess.

"I'm a horrible person," Ginny said, her voice hoarse and cracked when she finally spoke after several minutes of silence.

"Gin…" Harry began softly, intent on trying to make her feel better despite his worries about what happened with Dean.

"You shouldn't have punched Dean, Harry," she sobbed, looking up into the starry night sky, "It wasn't his fault. _I_ kissed _him_. You should have hit me."

"You know I'd never do that," Harry said, his voice barely above a whisper; he was uncomfortable and getting moreso by the minute, "But Ginny…I need to know…_why_ did you kiss Dean?"

Ginny sobbed and looked down, "Would you believe me if I said 'I don't know?'?"

"No," Harry replied grimly, moving his hand off of her back and running his fingers through his messy black hair.

"What about it if I said it was because I was drunk?" she asked, her voice cracking at the loss of contact with Harry's hand.

"That's a bit more believable," Harry admitted, taking a deep breath, "You did have a lot to drink tonight. But something tells me there's more to it."

"Do you know it's been a month since Fred…?" Ginny couldn't quite bring herself to say "died" or "was buried".

"Uh…yeah, I guess it has," Harry nodded, really not seeing what Fred's death had with her kissing Dean, "Hard to believe it's only been a month."

"Only?" Ginny turned to look at Harry, her eyes were ready and puffy from crying, "This has been the longest month of my life, Harry. I keep waiting for things to get back to normal, for life to go on…"

"Life _is_ going on, Gin," Harry said, trying his best not to sound frustrated with the direction their talk had taken, "Things _are_ getting back to normal."

"Then why do I feel like I'm not normal?" she asked, the tears streaming down her face, "Why do I feel so lost? I put on this brave front, force a smile onto my face, and act like everything's fine…and then two weeks ago, I attacked two of my brothers in one night…and now, tonight, I kissed my ex-boyfriend in front of all our friends and my _current_ boyfriend! Does _that_ sound _normal_ to _you_?!"

"Maybe not," Harry said, shaking his head. He wasn't sure if she wanted him to agree with her or not, but he didn't want to lie.

"Then when do _I_ get to be normal again, Harry?!" Ginny stood up and advanced on him, raising her voice, "When do I get to feel like _me_ again?!"

Harry grabbed her and pulled her into a tight hug, letting her bury her face into his chest despite the runny nose, tear-stained makeup, and the smell of vomit mixed with alcohol. He gently stroked her long, red hair and rested his chin on her forehead as she sobbed noisily against him.

"You've been trying to be strong for everybody…wanting to take care of everything," he said softly, trying his best to calm her down, "I think, maybe, you need to be able to fall apart just like everyone else…and when you're done, I reckon you'll feel a bit more like yourself again."

"You're not going to leave me because of that kiss in there, are you?" she looked up at him, her brown eyes were bloodshot and glassy, "I don't think I could get over you a second time, Harry."

"No, Gin," he said, shaking his head and looking deep into her eyes, "I'm hurt…confused…maybe a little angry…maybe a LOT angry…but I love you; I'm not willing to give you up again."

"You have to know, Harry, I didn't mean to kiss Dean like that," Ginny croaked, trying her best to explain when her mind was so cloudy, "It was just so nice…dancing with someone…and I meant to give him a peck on the cheek…just to say 'thank you'…but…I don't know…my brain was so addled…next thing I know, my lips are on his and you're yanking us apart. I am _so_ sorry!"

Harry frowned at her explanation, but she was practically in tears, so he wasn't about to make this any more difficult for her than it already was. He knew she'd had too much to drink…it was obvious to anybody at the party…and people do stupid things when they're drunk. He'd heard a story about her brother Charlie getting drunk once and coming home with a tattoo of a dragon somewhere on his body, so kissing the wrong bloke didn't seem too farfetched. It still hurt that it had happened to him, though.

"I guess it could have been worse," he sighed, looking deep into her glassy brown eyes, "I could have walked in on you shagging Dean."

Ginny responded with a hoarse, croaking sort of chuckle, "If I didn't shag him when we dated, Harry, I'm certainly not going to shag him now that I'm with _you_…no matter _how_ drunk I get!"

Harry smiled and a short laugh escaped his throat. They were going to get over this little bump in the road of their relationship, and he would help Ginny to get back to being herself again. He'd be there when she needed to fall apart, and he'd help her put herself back together again. She'd been there for him, after all.

"I love you, Gin," Harry said, leaning down in order to plant a kiss on her lips.

"I love you, to--…urlp!!" Ginny was leaning up about to make contact with Harry's lips when her stomach gave a lurch. She quickly tore herself out of Harry's embrace just in time to resume being sick in the rubbish bin.

Several more minutes passed out in the small courtyard beneath the flat where Harry continued holding Ginny's hair and rubbing her back tenderly while she continued to be sick in the bin. His green eyes flashed with deepest sympathy as he watched her; not for her alcohol-induced vomiting, but for the way she'd been feeling lost in the face of Fred's death. He had a lot of experience in that area, after all, having lost so many people close to him over the course of the last seven years.

"Things are going to be alright, Gin," Harry said in his best soothing voice, "No matter how long it takes."

When Harry and Ginny finally made their way up into the flat, neither one really wanted to go back in; both expected to have an unwelcome spotlight thrust upon them following the incident with Dean. That being said, the young couple was rather surprised to re-enter the home of the Weasley Brothers only to find four people within.

"Alright there, Harry? Gin?" Ron sat perched on the couch with his arm around Hermione. As his best friend and baby sister entered the room, all eyes turned to them, and although Harry looked much the same as he had when he left a few minutes before, Ginny looked atrocious.

"Do you need anything, Ginny?" Hermione asked, looking concerned at the younger girl's disheveled state.

Ginny shook her head and looked around, noticing that with the exception of Ron, George, Hermione, and Angelina Johnson, the flat was now empty, "Where is everyone?"

"They all scarpered off," George said with a grin, "No doubt afraid that they all would receive a drubbing at the hands of the Boy-Who-Lived."

George and Ron were the only ones in the room who thought his joke was funny, apparently, because they were the only ones laughing at what he said. The other four people in the room were scowling at the Weasley Brother's inappropriate humor.

"Prat!" Angelina snapped, moving up behind George and smacking him in the back of the head.

"Honestly, George," Hermione scolded from her position on the couch, causing Ron to chuckle again. This prompted her to frown disapprovingly at her boyfriend and pinch him on the arm to silence his laughter, "Hush, Ron!"

"So everyone left because of me," Harry stated, sounding down-in-the-mouth, "I ruined the party."

"Nonsense," Hermione objected, looking around for someone to agree with her, "It's just…well…it is getting late, Harry."

"It's not even Eleven, Hermione," Harry replied, giving her a look. He knew what she was trying to do, and it just made him feel worse, "I'm sorry that I ruined the party."

"_We_ ruined the party," Ginny corrected him hoarsely. She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. He looked down at her and the two of them shared a sad little smile. At least they shared the blame, so it didn't weigh as heavily on either one of them.

"Don't be ridiculous!" George exclaimed after a particularly pointed nudge from Angelina jabbed her elbow into his ribs, "There's a rule around the Weasley Brothers' flat: _It ain't a party, 'til a fight breaks out!_"

"That's a rule?" Ron asked, shooting his older brother a look. This was news to him.

"It is now!" George smiled.

"Good to know," Ron smirked, causing Hermione to roll her eyes.

"Remind me to avoid the next party," Harry said, smiling slightly. He was still feeling a bit downtrodden over bringing an abrupt end to Ron and George's flat-warming party, but since it seemed like the people who mattered to him…his _family_…weren't holding a grudge against him, he started to feel a bit more lighthearted.

"Nonsense, Harry my boy," George said, moving over and putting an arm around the adopted Weasley, "You were the absolute LIFE of the party…or the death of it. Either way, it wouldn't have been a party without you!"

With the flat-warming party officially over, the six of them made quick work of the cleanup. Magic made the chore quick and easy, and inside of ten minutes the flat was sparkling and looking brand-new once again. Once that was all behind them, Harry and Ginny used the Floo to return to the Burrow, but not before reminding Ron and George about the Sunday brunch their mother had planned for the morning.

As soon as the fire in the fireplace died down after the exit of Harry and Ginny, George turned to his little brother and his girlfriend. "Alright you two, get out!"

"What?!" Ron looked up, confused and a bit put-out by George's demanding tone.

Hermione, meanwhile, looked downright insulted, "And just _where_ are we supposed to go, George Weasley?" she snapped, standing up and putting her hands on her hips.

"You don't have to go home," George said, smirking at Hermione, "But you can't stay here! Angelina and I have plans for that couch."

Angelina rolled her eyes at the "tactful" way her boyfriend was ensuring a little bit of privacy for the two of them. She couldn't help but think it must be an inherited trait, for she knew Ron was even less skilled in the art of tact. The dark-skinned former Quidditch captain gave Hermione an apologetic look as the two of them made their way out of the sitting room and down the hall towards the bedrooms.

"That was rude, George," she finally said to her boyfriend once they were all alone.

"You kidding me?" he laughed, "Ron was _dying_ for a reason to get Hermione back into his bedroom, and I gave him one. Personally, I think I'm the best big brother ever!"

Exasperated at the Weasley Brother standing before her, Angelina Johnson could only shake her head in disbelief as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down onto the couch with him. There was just something about a Weasley man that was irresistible, and the dark beauty found herself hoping that Ron and Hermione would find something to do in his bedroom for quite some time.

"Can you believe your brother?" Hermione said, her voice sharp with frustration, "Shooing us out of the sitting room like we were a couple of annoying children."

"Uh huh," Ron agreed absentmindedly as they entered his room. He quietly closed to the door behind them, and remembering all of the interruptions earlier, he quietly cast an Imperturbable Charm on the door.

"And you…you didn't even stand up to him," she went on, chiding Ron, "All you did was obediently vacate the sitting room."

"Did you ever stop to think that I might have _wanted_ to leave the sitting room?" he asked, folding his arms across his chest and giving her a meaningful look.

"Why would you…?" All of a sudden, realization of where they had been "exiled" to dawned on Hermione. They were all alone in his bedroom, and the only other people in the flat was the couple out on the couch wanting their _own_ privacy, "Oh," was all she could say as she started blushing profusely.

Ron smiled that special lopsided smile that he reserved solely for Hermione and began moving towards her. He quickly pulled her into his arms and planted a kiss on her lips before she could protest…not that she would. When they broke apart, her face was still flushed, but she was smiling brightly at him.

"Wait, Ron," she said, pulling away from him. She moved over to her bag where it sat on the bed and dug inside it quickly, "There's something I need to do first."

"What's that?" he asked, still curious as to what secrets were still held inside Hermione's bag.

As she turned around to face him again, Ron could see that Hermione was brandishing something in her hand. A toothbrush! She made her way towards the door, causing Ron to protest.

"'Mione, your breath is fine!" he said, wanting to get back to the kissing…and other things…he hoped the night had in store.

"I'm glad you think so," she laughed, "I'd be mortified if I found out we were kissing and I had bad breath." She stopped at the bedroom door and motioned to it for Ron to undo his spell. Ron rolled his eyes and complied, doing whatever it took to get her back to the kissing as soon as possible.

While she was gone, Ron found himself alone in the room with nothing to stop him from going through Hermione's bag. Allowing curiosity to get the better of him, Ron quickly moved to the bed and began rifling through the contents of her duffle. He was confused to find neatly folded clothes sitting in the bag alongside a pouch full of mysterious little bottles. He'd seen similar bottles in Ginny's room…makeup, perfume, girly products of various types.

When he heard the sound of Hermione coming across the hall towards his bedroom once again, Ron moved to the other side of the bed, away from her bag, and did his best _not_ to look guilty. Of course, the bright pink tint his ears had taken on was probably a dead giveaway.

"There we go," Hermione announced once she re-entered the room, smiling brightly, "All minty-fresh and protected against tartar and plaque build-up and the gum disease _gingivitis_," this last bit she said in an ominous tone as if it were some sort of monster waiting to attack an unsuspecting village.

"You really didn't need to brush your teeth, 'Mione," Ron said again, wanting desperately to get back to the kissing, "I'm telling you, your breath was fine."

"Ron, I _always_ brush my teeth before I go to bed," she said, moving over to stand in front of him, putting her hands on his shoulders, "And don't you think my parents…the dentists…would give me a world of grief if I _didn't_ brush my teeth just because I was spending the night away from home?"

"Yeah, but…wait…what?!" he looked up quickly into Hermione's eyes. Was she saying what he _thought_ she was saying? "So…all that stuff in your bag…"

"Went through it, did you?" she asked, smiling. There was no need keeping anything a secret at this point. She leaned down and planted a minty-fresh kiss on his lips. "Pajamas, a sundress for your family's brunch tomorrow, a change of underwear, and some necessary toiletries to make myself look all beautiful tomorrow…just the essentials any witch needs when spending the night with her boyfriend."

"Spending the night?" Ron grinned, "So you mean…you're…we're…?"

"We _are_," Hermione nodded, "As long as you want to."

"_Want to_?!" he exclaimed, grabbing her and pulling her down onto the bed with him, "'Mione, I'm halfway done!"

Hermione laughed at his joke and kissed him deeply. As their bodies pressed against each other, one this was certain: whether he was halfway done or not, there was no mistaking the fact that Ron was _ready_!

"You'd better slow down then, Ronald Weasley," she joking chided him, "And let me catch up!"

"Anything you say, love!" he agreed happily. He would agree to almost anything she wanted him to do now; anything for his chance to finally be with her completely.

A short time later, Ron lay on his back, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling, his skin flushed pink and covered in sweat, his hair damp and matted, with the biggest smile he'd ever had plastered to his face.

"That…was bloody…brilliant!" he exclaimed, still panting from the exertion.

Lying cuddled up next to him, also flushed and sweaty, Hermione smiled happily and snuggled closer to her lover's body, her head nestled perfectly into the area between his chest and shoulder as if it had been tailor-made for holding her.

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself," she chuckled, running her hand lazily up-and-down his heaving chest.

"Didn't you?" Ron asked, quirking an eyebrow as he craned his neck to look down at her. His smile faded a little and he almost looked…worried.

Sensing the doubt in his voice, Hermione looked up at him with love and reassurance shining in her deep chocolate eyes, "Of course I enjoyed myself, Ron…it was lovely."

"Did you…?" he twitched his head and bit his lip as if to signify what he was trying to ask her. His blue eyes were still filled with worry as he searched her eyes for some sign of recognition.

"Did I…finish?" she asked, hesitantly, concluding that _that_ was what he was trying to communicate to her. He nodded nervously at her as best he could from his position, and then it was Hermione's turn for nervousness. She bit her lip and looked away, "Well…no. I didn't."

"Bloody Hell…!" Ron groaned, his voice nearly an unmanly whine. He covered his face with his hand to hide his shame, "'Mione I am _so_ sorry! I bet I hurt you, too! I thought I saw you wince…"

"It did hurt a bit, yes," Hermione admitted, not wanting to add to Ron's anguish, but not wanting to be dishonest with him, either, "But that is incredibly common for a girl's first time…and so is not finishing."

"How do you…?" Ron moved his hand away from his face in order to look at her, a confused expression marring his features. She looked up at him sheepishly and as their eyes met, recognition dawned in the redhead's bright blue eyes, "You read about it in a book! When…?"

Hermione looked away again, embarrassed by the answer, "Erm…it might have been…Fourth Year…"

"Fourth…?!" he gaped at her, shocked, but very quickly narrowed his eyes as he realized what that must mean, "Bloody effing Krum! Read it in preparation for the Yule Ball, did you?"

He didn't know why he said it. He knew that nothing happened between Viktor and Hermione at the Yule Ball, or at any other time, but he couldn't help himself. Ron Weasley was a jealous git, and no matter how hard he tried…and he _was_ trying…for her…he would always _be_ a jealous git.

"Actually, Ronald," she began, her voice humorless and her eyes hard, "I read it shortly after spending the summer with you at the Burrow."

His eyebrows shot up into his hairline, and Ron Weasley (jealous git that he is) was once again shocked by something that Hermione had said, "You…you were thinking about _this_…with _me_…all the way back _then_?!"

"Weren't _you_?" Hermione asked accusingly, blushing intensely at the revelation of her embarrassing secret.

"Well…yeah…but I'm a guy…and you're a girl," her offered lamely as an explanation.

"I suppose if we'd have done this _sooner_," she said, deadpan, although her eyes held the faintest spark of humor, "You'd have spotted that I was a girl _before_ the Yule Ball."

"No chance of me forgetting _that_ now," Ron said, forcing a chuckle. Even so, hurt shone in his eyes for a brief moment. The Yule Ball and everything that it entailed would always be a dark chapter in their life together. Just like the "nightmare" comment from First Year, the Scabbers/Crookshanks incident from Third Year, the Lavender Brown situation from Sixth Year, and the tent-leaving fiasco during the Horcrux hunt. There were so many horrible reasons for Hermione _not_ to be with him that Ron's next question seemed inevitable.

"Why are you with me?" he asked, unable to control himself. His fear and lack of confidence had gotten the better of him…again.

Hermione looked taken aback by the question. She searched his eyes and found the cobalt orbs she loved so much to be full of despair and self-loathing.

"Ron…" she said softly, reaching up to caress his cheek, "I'm with you because I love you, and because you love me."

"Yeah, but…"

She put a finger to his lips to quiet him.

"You're faithful, loyal, caring," she continued, extolling the virtues of Ron Weasley to himself, "Funny, courageous, intelligent --…"

"Bollocks," Ron snorted derisively.

Hermione pulled herself to a sitting position and leaned over top of Ron so she could look down, directly into his face.

"Just because you don't apply yourself doesn't mean you're not intelligent," she said sternly.

He rolled his eyes and tried to look away from her, but Hermione took his face in her hands and kept his eyes focused on her.

"Whether you believe me or not," Hermione said, never taking her eyes off of him, "I stand by what I said. And then, of course, there's the most important reason that I'm with you…"

"And what's that?" Ron asked, hoping that her next reason would convince him.

"You complete me, Ron," Hermione's voice was firm and unwavering as she spoke; what she said, she believed with all her heart, "I'm very staid and structured, whereas you're very spontaneous and push me to be as well; I tend to get caught up in my work, but you show me how to have fun, and how important having fun can be; I worry about what's going to happen in the future, but you help me to live in the now; I get wrapped up in my books, but you pull me out into the world; I look at everything with an eye toward cold logic, while you see everything through a lens of warmth and emotion."

"You complete me, too, you know," he said, rubbing a hand up and down her bare back.

She nodded and smiled, "We complete each other; that's why we're so good together," Hermione moved suddenly from her sitting position and threw a leg over Ron until she was straddling his hips, "And with lots and lots of practice, we'll be even better together."

"Practice?" Ron croaked as he felt her naked bum pressing down against his most-sensitive of parts, "You mean…you want to go again?"

"Unless you'd rather just go to sleep," Hermione replied, smirking naughtily as she began to wriggle and grind herself against him.

"Bloody Hell, woman!" he laughed as her movements brought him quickly back to life, "With you here…like this…I may never sleep again!"

But Ron did, eventually, go to sleep…but not before he and Hermione completed each other one or two more times that night.

**-- End Chapter 36 --**

**Author's End Notes:** So there you have it! Chapter 36! The question of The Kiss is solved, the question of whether or not Ginny shagged Dean is solved, and the much anticipated Ron & Hermione's first time is...well...not _solved_...but it occured!! I hope you ejoyed it...and whether you did or didn't, feel free to review. Chapter 37 should be up in two weeks...which will put it at thesecond weekend in November, so keep an eye out for it.

I had wanted to do a Halloween HP story, but the truth of the matter is, nothing came to me. Still, I've got about a week...if some great Halloween idea hits me, I'll try and do a story. If not, well, maybe inspiration will hit me in time for Christmas.

Until next time, in the immortal words of Casey Kasem, "Keep your feet on the ground, and keep reaching for the stars!"

**_'Hawk_**


	37. Sunday Bloody Sunday

**Author's Notes:** I'm sitting here at 1:50 in the morning and I must say I'm a bit surprised. It's not even Friday yet (okay, TECHNICALLY, it's Friday...but I'm a firm believer in a day doesn't BEGIN til the sun comes up!) and I'm posting the latest chapter. Not too shabby...considering I'd ordinarily be posting this thing on Saturday morning before the mad rush to get out the door for "Guy's Day/Night" with my friends (and my 13 year old nephew whom I let tag along). The other great thing is I GET TO SPEND FRIDAY DOING WHATEVER THE HELL I WANT!!!! WOOHOO!!!! Okay, I need to stop. I'm making it sound like this thing is some kind of horrendous chore to produce...and while it can be just that at times, at other times it's a great pleasure. Once this chapter started to flow, it was a pleasure for me.

And THAT isvery important, because if I ain't having fun doing this thing, well, I'm just gonna take my proverbial ball and go home!!!

For the most part, last chapter went over really well. There was one significant review expressing...displeasure...with the chapter; I really wish I could have pleased THAT reader as well as I did most of the others. I can't please everybody, though, and that really bums me out. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not bummed like I was when I was about to have a nervous breakdown from putting up new chapters every day and they were starting to suck so hard that even the READERS (who have always said such positive things about this story) were hearing the **_*SLURP!*_**...but I was bummed nonetheless.

The reason I was so bummed was because I was _happy_ with the last chapter, and having dealt with some things in the story that I think NEEDED to be dealt with, I felt like a HUGE weight was taken off my shoulders and I felt re-energized. I felt fk'ing GIDDY after posting last chapter! And at the risk of once again being accused of being girly, I LIKED FEELING GIDDY!! So, my giddiness was dampened a bit, but it came back as I began work on this chapter. And since I can see the end in sight for this story, I'm hoping I can keep this giddy euphoria going on at least until the final chapter of **_Aftermath_** is put to bed.

As always, I'd like to give a shout out to the people who've reviewed my work in he past: **Edinburgh Love**, **Ann Malfoy**, **Cantletharrygo**, **CutewithAcapital-Q**, **fatyellowrat**, **Avanell**, **Dizzy0305**, **katie1985**, **Elytha**, **Trude**, **mugglemamma**, **emmy1124**, **-HPfan**, **Moony3005**, **IsI Wisi**, **Lady Anja**, **embergrl9010**, **the written princess**, **MissFinnegan**, **Tiffany M**, **kareem33**, **randomguy1517**, **Shlesha**, **ronniemione**,** sarah-keyko**, **not for lack of trying**, **Emma04**, **Jacob's-One-Girl**, **Ravenhaired2**, **Nosta82**, **Aly-Cat 101**, **EnglishGirlVerity**,** marauders rox**, **Lane Joey**, **allenterrill**, **skippyboo**, **Larelles**, **kellymc1**, **xxafterglowxx**, **screamxheart**, **zsdvnn**, **Foxy-Steph**, **Kirsty-Luan**, **marvelous-fanwriter**, **hctb**, **ronlover997**, **HeatherRiddle**, **LadyInWriting**, **beautifulshamrock**, **shadowmonger**, **lemondrop43**, **watched 2 much tv**, **LaRay93**, **CwamBeta**, **Chick Flicks- Rock 'N' Roll**, **james87**, **griffyndorgirl**, **iriepotter**, **Trebius**, **Puff2836**, **FinlandGirl**, **Kate7**,** oroshi**, and** allii** have all submitted reviews for my story, and I just want to give them all a big THANK YOU!!

**Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling has created the greatest fictional character to come along in some time (Ron Weasley), and to her I offer thanks. These characters belong to her, and since she won't follow George Lucas' business model and allow dozens and dozens of writers to dabble in her universe and make those stories In-Canon, the least we can do is thank her for looking the other way while we borrow her crayons and coloring book and scribble inside...and outside...the lines of her masterpiece. Thanks J.K. (Can I call you J?)

* * *

**Aftermath**

**Chapter 37 -- ****Sunday Bloody Sunday**

George Weasley was awakened Sunday morning by a noise he wasn't quite sure he'd actually heard. He had been quite deeply asleep when the sound…the noise…the _whatever-the- Hell-it-was_…pervaded his dreams of coed-naked-full-contact-Quidditch with a team composed entirely of Veelas, and the one-eared Weasley found himself quite rudely being pulled away from the Land of Nod.

George rolled himself out of bed, groaning slightly as his muscles protested the sudden shift from lying comfortably in bed to getting up and moving about. He yawned and stretched, eliciting another protest from his muscles. He made his way towards his bedroom door, absentmindedly scratching the contents of his custom-made Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes boxer shorts, when suddenly the noise – which he had assumed was just a mysterious part of the dream that was quickly fading from his conscious mind – was heard once again.

Was that a _giggle_? Giggling was not something heard very often in the Weasley Brothers' flat; chuckling, sniggering, guffawing, and other manly forms of laughter, yes…girlish giggling, not so much…and certainly _never_ on a Sunday morning.

George poked his head out into the hall, in search of the source of the giggling. He noticed that the door to Ron's bedroom was wide-open, and the youngest of the Weasley Brothers was not inside. The sound of the shower running quickly drew George's attention and just as he was about to bang on the bathroom door and ask Ron if _he_ had heard the strange giggling, a series of new noises stopped George Weasley in his tracks.

A very feminine squeal was followed by a throat-but-equally-feminine moan, and _that_ was followed by two words that brought a wicked grin to the Weasley jokester's face: "Oh, Ron!" And all of these noises, it could now easily be discerned, were coming from beyond the bathroom door.

George punched the air and gave a _whoop_ of satisfaction, as a feeling of pride washed over him. He banged loudly on the door to the loo and called out to his little brother beyond, "Atta boy, Ronniekins!!"

"Sod off, George!"

George laughed at the response he had gotten as he made his way into the kitchen, intent on making a pot of tea, or perhaps coffee, in order to kick-start what was already proving to be an interesting Sunday.

Using his wand to quickly bring a kettle of water to a boil, George was still chuckling at the response he'd gotten from behind the bathroom door. After all, it's not every day that an obviously flustered Hermione Granger told George to sod off!

George had finished making his tea and had been sitting down at the kitchen table, reading _The Sunday Prophet_ for about half-an-hour when a disgruntled-looking Ron and an embarrassed-looking Hermione came trudging into the kitchen.

"Enjoyed your shower, did you?" George asked the two of them, never taking his eyes off the paper, "All squeaky clean now, yeah?"

The sound of Ron growling brought a huge grin to George's face, and he couldn't help but look up from the paper finally. Hermione couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze, and she was looking anywhere but at him. Ron however was glaring menacingly at his older brother and looked about ready to kill.

"Quite a brilliant way of conserving the hot water," George laughed, enjoying the young couple's discomfort, "That must have been your idea Hermione, because Ron certainly wouldn't have thought of _that_!"

"Shut it, George!" Ron snapped, pointing an angry finger at his brother, "For your information, we weren't doing it to conserve water!"

"RON!!" Hermione yelled in exasperation, smacking him in the arm and giving him and angry look. The youngest Weasley male blushed and looked sheepishly at her as he realized what he had just inadvertently confessed. Laughing at Ron and Hermione's embarrassment, George got up from the table and made his way back to his bedroom to get ready for brunch at the Burrow.

Two hours later, two couples Apparated onto the path outside the Burrow's front door. Ron and Hermione stood next to George and an unusually nervous-looking Angelina Johnson. She was fidgeting and casting looks back-and-forth between George and the looming structure of the Burrow.

"Are you sure about this, George?" Angelina asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

"What's to be sure about?" George replied, turning to look at her, his ever-present grin and mischievous twinkle in full-effect, "You've met most of my family in the past…and if you can put up with Ron, the rest are a walk in the park."

"Hey!" Ron yelled in protest, shooting his brother a two-fingered salute only to find himself being slapped on the arm by Hermione and dragged towards the lopsided house, protesting mildly as they went.

Ignoring Ron's outburst, Angelina cast a sheepish glance at her boyfriend, "You know…the _thing_," she said, motioning with her as if to some invisible object looming over the two of them.

George rolled his eyes and smirked. They'd had this particular conversation several times since the subject of Sunday brunch with the entire Weasley clan first came up. At first, he'd found Angelina's anxiety to be cute, but now, he just found it silly.

"My family isn't going to _care_ about that," he assured her, putting a comforting arm around her shoulder and pulling her into him, "Now, stop being _mental_ and let's go in!"

"I am _not_ being mental!" she growled, punching him in the arm hard enough to make George wince, "I just don't want your family to treat me strange because…"

"Look," George said, getting serious. He turned and faced her, taking both her fidgeting hands in his own and looked her dead in the eye, "They aren't going to care that, once upon a time, you and Fred dated briefly. Are you with me because of him?"

"What? No! Of course not! I like you for _you_, you great git!" she was quite serious when she said that, and as George gazed deeply into her dark brown eyes, he knew she meant it. Of course, he'd known it even before he asked, but he hoped putting voice to her fears would calm her jangled nerves.

"Well then, you like me, I like you…and so will my family," he said, smiling warmly before it turned into a wicked grin, "Frankly, Mum will be so relieved that I'm not going the bachelor route like Charlie that I could bring home anything short of a mountain troll and she'd burst a button with pride."

Angelina narrowed her eyes at his smirking face, "Thank you _so much_ for that ringing endorsement, George Weasley. I'll do my best to avoid any trollish behavior!"

"You could start by not _hitting _so hard," he joked, rubbing the spot on his arm that she had punched moments before, "The Weasley men have delicate skin, don't you know!"

Her anxiety gone for the moment, thanks to George's levity, Angelina interlaced her fingers with his and allowed George to lead her towards the Burrow and the Weasley clan waiting within.

"GEORGE!!" Molly Weasley exclaimed as her second-youngest son walked into the kitchen, hand-in-hand with the lovely young black girl at his side. She wrapped him up in a bone-crushing hug, smiling happily at him.

George cast an amused glance over at Ron and Hermione, and they exchanged a look that said that they, too, had received such a reception upon entering the Burrow.

"Can't…breathe…Mum…" George jokingly gasped, as if actually having the life squeezed out of him by his overzealous mother.

Mrs. Weasley released him, blushing a bit. She stepped back and looked him up and down, "Are you and Ron eating enough? You both look too thin!"

"That's because Ron refuses to take up cooking, Mum," George replied with a devilish smirk, casting a wicked glance at his brother, "Says the apron makes him looks like a poof."

Glaring daggers at his brother, Ron made a threatening move towards George, as if he was planning to pound him into the floor for his comment, but Hermione wrapped both her arms around one of Ron's and held him in place, giving him a disapproving look that caused him to hang his head in defeat and stay where he was.

"Don't be silly, Ronald," Mrs. Weasley said, turning her attention to her youngest son, having failed to notice him about to attack George, "Learning to cook would be a wonderful thing for you to do. And I don't mind telling you that a man who knows his way around the kitchen is quite attractive."

"Really?" Ron looked up at his mother, and then over to Hermione for confirmation. His bushy-haired girlfriend grinned broadly at him and nodded, "Well…maybe learning to cook wouldn't be _so_ bad…but I'm not wearing a frilly apron!"

Everyone in the kitchen chuckled at this, and when Hermione stood up on her tiptoes to whisper something in Ron's ear, George couldn't help but smirk at the blush that suddenly flooded his brother's cheeks. He was about to make a comment on his brother's embarrassment when a sharp nudge from behind drew his attention.

"Oh! Uh…Mum, you remember Angelina Johnson, don't you?" George said, pulling the dark-skinned young woman further into the room, thereby placing a figurative spotlight on her, "We were on the Gryffindor Quidditch team together."

"Of course I do," Molly said with a broad smile. She moved quickly towards the nervous girl and swept her up into a traditional Mrs.-Weasley-hug, "It's so wonderful to see you again, Angelina. Please make yourself at home, dear."

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," Angelina replied, trying to relax but still feeling anxious as she was now the center of attention, "You have a lovely home."

"Why thank you, dear. So polite!" Molly gushed, "It's amazing how all my boys wind up with delightfully polite young women, despite their own penchant for improper displays of rude and crude behavior."

"I don't know what you mean, Mum," George said, pretending to noisily wipe his nose on the sleeve of shirt, "I've always been a paragon of good manners!"

"Ignore him, Angelina, and come outside, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, ushering the newest of the Weasley Brothers' girlfriends out the back door, "We usually have these sort of things out in the garden, since there's just too many people to fit around the table in this little kitchen."

Once out in the garden, Molly led Angelina to the tables that had been set up for brunch. Harry and Ginny were currently setting the table while Mr. Weasley and Charlie chatted animatedly on their way back up from the shed where the Weasley's paterfamilias stored all of his beloved Muggle contraptions.

"Arthur, Charlie, come meet George's young lady!" Mrs. Weasley called to her husband and second-oldest son, a smile beaming from cheek-to-cheek, "You see it _is_ possible to have a career _and_ a girlfriend, Charlie."

Charlie Weasley couldn't help but roll his eyes at his mother's not-so-subtle suggestion that he should find himself a nice woman with whom to settle down. He'd been hearing a lot of those not-so-veiled hints ever since his older brother's wedding to Fleur almost a year earlier.

"Mum, we've been over this," the Weasley dragon-keeper said as he and his father reached the two women, "If I can find a woman who knows her way around a dragon, I'll marry her! Besides…between Bill, Percy, George, Ronnie, and Ginny, you'll probably wind up with so many grandchildren that you'll never even miss the ones I don't give you."

"I could have a hundred grandbabies, Charles Weasley," his mother corrected him, "And I would still miss the ones you don't give me."

Charlie rolled his eyes again and looked to his father for help. Arthur Weasley, however, knew a losing battle when he saw one just as he knew better than to get involved in this particular point of contention between his wife and his son. He merely looked off into the distance, pretending not to notice what was going on around him.

For her part, however, Angelina looked like a deer caught in headlights…or a unicorn caught in wandlight…or whatever the wizarding world equivalent was. She'd been inside the Weasley family's home for less than ten minutes, and already there was talk of babies being bandied about. At least no one had asked her yet if she and George had discussed such things. After all, they'd only been dating for a couple of weeks.

Finally, the butting-of-heads between Charlie and Mrs. Weasley came to a close, "We'll continue _this_ discussion later, Charlie," Molly said, giving him a knowing look, "For now, however, I want you to meet Angelina."

"We've met," Charlie said, extending a hand to the young woman, "Nice to see you again, Angelina. Haven't seen you since my last year at Hogwarts; heard they made you Quidditch captain eventually."

"Yes, well, Oliver Wood succeeded you," she replied, shaking her old teammate's hand, "But after he graduated, I was given the position. Oliver was not happy that his final year at Hogwarts was a year _without_ Quidditch."

"To be sure," Charlie nodded, smiling, "I remember Wood as being a bit intense. I heard the twins saying he was quite the taskmaster as captain. I hear he's the Keeper for Puddlemere United now."

"Wood wasn't the only taskmaster," George said with a smile as he came out of the Burrow and made his way to the group, putting his arm around his girlfriend, "Our little Angelina here really knew how to crack the whip during her time as captain. You should've heard some of the nicknames we had for her – OOF!!"

A death glare from Angelina was quickly followed up by an elbow into George's ribs effectively shutting him up, "I'd shut it if I were you, George," she said menacingly, "Or you'll see just how hard I can crack that whip!"

A loud bark of laughter coming from Charlie reminded Angelina where she was. She looked quickly at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and blushed at the grin on Arthur's face and the shocked expression on Molly's.

"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Weasley," Angelina said, fearing that she had ruined her first impression with her boyfriend's family, "I didn't mean --…"

"Nonsense, dear," Molly said, smiling and putting a reassuring arm around Angelina's shoulders. She began leading her away from the three men, "Weasley men need a firm hand, you see. I'm so happy to see that…with the exception of Charles," Molly called over her shoulder, shooting a significant look at her second-born child once more, "All my boys have found themselves women who can keep them in line."

"Couldn't have stayed single, could you George?" Charlie said to his younger brother once Mrs. Weasley and Angelina were out of earshot, "Had to find a girl you liked enough to bring home to meet the family. You realize this makes me the only Weasley bachelor now!"

"It's not my fault you'd rather snog a dragon than a woman!" George laughed. The laughter caused a twinge of pain in his side and he began rubbing his ribs where Angelina had elbowed him, "Of course, _that one's_ quite the dragon herself!"

Nearly an hour had passed since George and Ron arrived with their respective girlfriends. The majority of the Weasley clan and their significant others were now seated and waiting, rather impatiently on Ron's part, for the brunch to begin. However, the absence of Percy and his girlfriend, Audrey, from the table forced everyone to continue to wait.

"I don't see why we can't just start without Percy," Ron whinged as his stomach growled. He was gazing rather longingly at the platter of eggs and sausages sitting in the middle of the table, kept warm and edible through magic, "There's plenty of food to go around!"

"Honestly, Ronald," Hermione began scolding him, falling into an old routine, "Everyone else is just as hungry as you are, and we're all waiting patiently."

Ron mumbled something under his breath about working up an appetite in the shower earlier. This caused a blush to color Hermione's cheeks as she looked, wide-eyed, around the table to see if anyone had heard his comment. When it seemed as if she was safe, and that no one had heard, she shot Ron an angry look and was about to whisper something harsh to him, when Mrs. Weasley cut her off.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley, you can wait for your brother just like the rest of us!" Molly snapped, wagging a finger at him, "Percy and Audrey will be here soon. Another few minutes of hunger won't kill you!"

The sound of Harry and Angelina sniggering from their spots across the table drew Ron's attention. That entire side of the table, in fact, seemed to be smirking at Ron; especially Charlie and George who seemed to revel in their baby brother being scolded, not only by their mother, but by his bossy know-it-all girlfriend, as well.

"Bilius," Angelina muttered to herself, but loud enough that Ron could hear. Her sniggering gave way to a smirk that George, himself, would have been proud of.

Ron opened his mouth and was about to send a verbal barrage at his Fifth Year Quidditch captain, but the feeling of Hermione's fingernails digging into his leg drew his attention away from his brother's girlfriend and planted it firmly on his own. He looked to her and cocked his eyebrows, to which she replied with a terse, slight shake of her head indicating that he should refrain from whatever insulting thing he was about to say.

"Why are we having brunch in the first place?" Charlie asked in an attempt to relieve the tension that was developing over on Ron's side of the table, "Sunday supper has always been the big Weasley gathering point."

"If you will recall," Mrs. Weasley said in a curt manner, indicating that this was a subject she did _not_ want to discuss, "Our last Weasley supper was just horrendous!"

Most of the Weasley children blushed and looked down at their empty plates, embarrassed for whatever part they played in ruining the last Weasley dinner…the one which the Minister had attended. It had not gone unnoticed by the Weasley children that their mother had not held one of their family suppers in the weeks since that debacle. It had become something of a family scandal that was better off not being discussed for fear of incurring the wrath of Molly Weasley.

"Sorry, Mum," came a chorus of mumbled apologies from the assembled Weasley brood.

It wasn't long after that Percy and Audrey arrived with two loud _cracks_ as they Apparated into the garden not far from the brunch setting. Molly Weasley was out of her seat and had her arms wrapped around her third-born child in a matter of seconds.

"Percy!" she exclaimed happily, as she crushed him in her loving bear hug, "I was starting to think you weren't going to come!"

"Nonsense, Mum," Percy said in a somewhat strangled voice as his mother nearly squeezed the stuffing out of him, "We wouldn't miss a family function. I simply…overslept."

Identical blushes covered the cheeks of Percy and his girlfriend at his explanation for their tardiness, but if his mother noticed, she didn't let on. Molly let go of her son and proceeded to greet Audrey with an equally rib-crushing hug.

"And Audrey…it's so wonderful to see you again, dear!"

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," Audrey croaked, smiling prettily as Molly squeezed her to pieces, "It's lovely seeing you all again."

Arthur Weasley followed his wife a few moments later, allowing her enough time to hug the new arrivals before greeting his son with a warm handshake and his son's girlfriend with a much-less-vigorous fatherly hug.

With the arrival of the final member of the Weasley clan, Ron, Charlie, George and Ginny were already in the process of shoveling food onto their plates. This earned them a disapproving cluck-of-the-tongue from their mother once the elder Weasleys rejoined the table followed closely by the new arrivals.

"You really didn't need to wait for us," Percy said as he dutifully made a plate for Audrey before serving himself, "You always make so much, Mum that even with Ron and Charlie's appetites, there's sure to be plenty."

"Tolshoo fo!" Ron said from around a mouthful of food.

"Whether you _told me so_ or not, Ronald Weasley, I was not going to let you tuck in until the _whole_ family was assembled," Molly said sternly as she helped herself to an apple pasty, "I raised you to have manners, although Merlin only knows where those manners disappeared to."

"I haf madders!" Ron exclaimed, spraying bits of food from his overly-stuffed mouth.

Hermione rolled her eyes and clucked her tongue disgustedly at him in a way very reminiscent of Molly Weasley herself. She then proceeded to wipe off the stray bits of egg and sausage that had escaped Ron's mouth and landed on her arm.

"Sorry, 'Mione," Ron said sheepishly once he swallowed the mouthful of food. She shook her head at him, but the look in her eyes was still one of affection. He quietly reached a hand under the table and squeezed her leg, and she followed suit by reaching down and squeezing his hand as it rested on her thigh. Sharing a contented smile, the couple went back to eating their brunch.

This, of course, didn't go unnoticed by George who had been paying extra attention to his baby brother and his girlfriend since the incident in the shower earlier in the day. He was looking for a way to tease the young couple in such a way that wouldn't be completely obvious to everyone. In other words, something along the lines of _"Hey Ron and Hermione…did you enjoy your shower shag this morning?"_ was completely out of the question.

"Y'know, Hermione," George said, a wicked smile on his lips, "If Ron keeps spraying you with food, you can always go inside and grab a shower."

Ron and Hermione stiffened noticeably at the mention of a shower. They knew there was no way that George was going to let them live down being caught in such a compromising position, but they had hoped he wouldn't bring it up at the family brunch. Of course, knowing George as well as they did, they should have known that's _exactly_ when he would strike.

"Don't worry, Hermione-dear," Molly called down the table, "If Ron gets you dirty, we'll get you all cleaned up."

Hermione blushed horribly at Mrs. Weasley's suggestive words, and Ron nearly choked on his eggs. Bill reached over and slapped his brother on the back to keep him from choking to death.

"Alright there, Ronnie?"

"Ronald! Chew your food before you try to swallow!" Mrs. Weasley scolded from her spot near the head of the table, "The way you lot behave you'd never know that we ever taught you proper table manners!"

"Sorry," Ron gasped after downing a gulp of pumpkin juice to help his food go down. He cast a glance at Hermione but she wouldn't meet his gaze. He looked over at George and shot him an angry glare, but George only responded with a wicked grin before taking a large bit of a pumpkin muffin.

George could tell that Ron wanted to say something hateful to him, but his younger brother had to realize that any untoward reaction from him would lead to something even more incriminating and embarrassing coming out of George's mouth.

Before another comment could be made by either Ron or George, the sound of a spoon being tapped on the side of a glass near the head of the table drew everyone's attention.

"Ahem," Percy said as he finished tapping his glass. His pale, freckled face looked somewhat flushed as did the porcelain skin of Audrey, "If I could have everyone's attention, please, there's announcement I'd like to make."

Everyone watched as Percy stood up straight. Much like Ron and Bill, Percy had inherited his father's height and eye color, and although he wasn't as tall and muscled as Ron or Bill, Percival Ignatius Weasley exuded confidence and gravitas at that particular moment in time.

"Last night," Percy continued, placing a gentle hand on Audrey's shoulder, "During a candlelit dinner at my flat in London…I asked for Audrey's hand in marriage," an audible gasp from the assembled Weasleys, almost drowned out by a joyful squeal from Mrs. Weasley, caused Percy to pause momentarily. His face flushed deeper and turned and gazed deeply into his girlfriend's eyes, "And in the happiest moment of my life since being made Head Boy at Hogwarts," he went on, causing several Weasleys and a few of the non-Weasleys to roll their eyes, "Audrey said 'yes'."

"You're getting married!!" Molly exclaimed, jumping to her feet as tears poured down her cheeks. She ran to Percy and hugged him again, kissing his cheek before turning to Audrey and delivering the same to her, "Another Weasley wedding!! Oh, Audrey-dear, I am so happy for the both of you! Welcome to the family!!"

"Th-thank you, Mrs. Weasley," Audrey stammered, a bit taken aback by the sudden outpouring of emotion in her direction. Percy had warned her of this happening when they were getting ready this morning…but nothing can really prepare one for Molly Weasley's affectionate assault…it's something that just has to be experienced in person.

"That's enough of calling me Mrs. Weasley," Molly said, gently caressing the rosy cheeks of her newest future daughter-in-law, "Please call me Molly…or Mum!"

Arthur Weasley got to his feet and congratulated Percy and Audrey with hugs that were much less vigorous than Molly's, but equally filled with heartfelt love. Soon, the rest of the assembled Weasleys and significant others moved to congratulate the couple.

"She 'as never asked me to call 'er _Molly_ or _Mum_," Fleur grumbled in her husband, Bill's, ear as they stood to offer their own congratulations. The only ones close enough to hear were Ron and Hermione, and the two of them couldn't help the quiet sniggers they tried to surpress.

Things were going much too smoothly for a Weasley family gathering, and everyone should have known that sooner or later, the wheels would come off the wagon…or the twigs would come off the broom…whatever it is they say in the wizarding world.

"Why the sudden proposal, Perce?" George asked as he stepped up and put an arm around his brother's shoulders. The wicked gleam in his eye should have told anyone looking close enough that George Weasley was up to no good, "You didn't knock her up, did you?"

Several hours later, once the commotion from George's inappropriate question had died down (and no, Percy did not get Audrey pregnant, much to Molly's relief), the assembled Weasleys and their guests had dispersed a bit.

Arthur and Bill were in the sitting room giving Percy advice on married life while sipping Firewhiskey and smoking Muggle cigars that Bill had brought back from his time in Egypt. They had been a gift for his father one Christmas, but since Molly didn't like the smell, they had been left largely ignored, the wooden box collecting dust on the mantle. However, this was a special occasion, and Mrs. Weasley had consented to relax the rules…slightly.

Molly, Fleur, and Audrey were in the kitchen, having tea and talking animatedly about the wedding. Mrs. Weasley had several wizarding bridal magazines she'd been hording for such time as another of her children would get married, and the three women pored over them discussing every aspect of the upcoming nuptials, despite the fact that a date had yet to be set. Fleur seemed to have gotten the bee out of her bonnet…or the lacewing fly out of her witch's hat…or whatever the wizarding equivalent was when she offhandedly (and quite passive aggressively) referred to Molly as "Mum" and was met by an affectionate hug from her mother-in-law who replied "It's about time!"

Hermione and Ginny had disappeared upstairs to have some time alone for "girl-talk", and Merlin only knows what it is they were actually discussing up there. Without a doubt, however, Ron and Harry would both be subjects about which the two girls conferred.

Speaking of Ron and Harry, they, along with George and Charlie had gotten up a game of two-on-two Quidditch going in the secluded grove off to the side of the garden. George and Ron had taken up positions as Keeper for the teams (leaving George at a significant disadvantage after his years of playing Beater) while Charlie and Harry (both former Seekers for Gryffindor) played Chasers for the two teams. With Charlie, Harry, and George all playing outside of their normal positions during the game, the only one in his element was Ron, and his two years as Gryffindor Keeper showed through as he and Harry beat the elder two Weasleys hands-down…or wands-down…or whatever the wizarding equivalent was.

Having originally been invited to join the women in the kitchen, the girls in Ginny's room, and the boys on the makeshift Quidditch pitch, Angelina begged off from all three and decided to take a walk. There had been something she had wanted to do since arriving at the Burrow, but had wanted to do so in private…and now seemed her best opportunity.

There was a spot in the garden that seemed to exist outside of the reality of the rest of Burrow's grounds. The grass was neat and tidy and meticulously trimmed. There were no weeds growing within ten yards of the spot. And it was obvious that none of the garden gnomes ever dared to go near the hallowed area. Twin rosebushes had been planted on either side of the simple stone marker and had been lovingly tended.

Angelina looked down at Fred Weasley's grave stone and wiped away the tears that had suddenly sprung to her eyes.

"Hi, Fred…hard to believe I only just saw you about a month ago. I was so sorry that…well…you know," Angelina looked around, making sure no one was observing her as she talked to the inanimate stone at her feet, "We had some good times, didn't we? I had so much fun at the Yule Ball, and the rest of that year was brilliant, really. But that's not what I wanted to talk about."

Angelina looked around again; she heard a loud _whoop_ coming from the Quidditch match across the garden and figured that Ron must have blocked another one of Charlie's shots. She could hear George yelling at his older brother, angry that their team had yet to score on their baby brother.

"It's George," Angelina said softly, turning her attention back to Fred's grave, "We're together now, and I really care about him, Fred. I hope you're okay with that. We've only been _official_ for the last couple of weeks…but we've gotten pretty serious. I could see myself with him…you know…in the future…permanently."

"I wish you could give me a sign that you're okay with me and George," she said, kneeling in front of the grave marker, she placed the tips of two fingers against her lips and kissed them before pressing them against Fred's name on his gravestone, "Goodbye, Fred. I really wish there was a way you could give us your blessing…"

Angelina was just about to get to her feet when a sudden, warm breeze blew through the garden. As the breeze blew past her, it almost felt to her as if someone pressed a quick kiss on her cheek. She looked around quickly to see if someone was playing a trick on her, but when she realized that she was, indeed, alone, a smile crossed her lips as she realized what had happened.

"Thank you, Fred."

**-- End Chapter 37 --**

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**Author's End Notes:** Okay, I went in a little different direction here, as this chapter was pretty much George-centric. I know it's a Ron/Hermione fic, but I decided to give George a little bit of room to move this time around. Hopefully it went over well, but I really won't know until someone reviews.

Another thing I did here was re-use the "or whatever the wizarding equivalent is" convention several times in the chapter. This was done really for comedic purposes moreso than anything else. The problem is, when you repeat something over and over, it sometimes gets annoying...I'm hoping that didn't happen here...but if it did, let me know.

Also...I allowed Fleur Weasley (nee Delacoeur) to use a bit of an accent here. I KNOW the last time I went to the accent-well, I sort of drowned you guys in Seamus' Irish accent. While I swear I will NEVER do that with Seamus ever ever EVER again, I feel that Fleur and Viktor should be allowed a bit of an accent. While I do believe that my over-use of Seamus' accent took away from the reading of the story (mea culpa!!), I think a lack of usage of an accent for those two characters also takes away from the story. Fleur and Viktor are not meant to sound like everyone else (neither is Hagrid for that matter) and making them sound like all the other British folks in the story breaks the suspension of disbelief (at least, it does for me) almost as badly as having all the British fellas in Harry's dorm call each other "dude".

Next chapter, we jump forward a bit in time. Don't be scared...just a few weeks! In the meantime, I'll probably put up another one-shot story. I have one in mind, I just need to plot it out and write it. As for the next chapter of **_Aftermath_**, well, check back in two weeks!

'Hawk


	38. A Time of War and Remembrance

**Author's Notes:** In just about 8 hours, it will have been two weeks since I posted a new chapter for **_Aftermath_**. That's nothing that really needs reminding about, but the next words outta my mouth...err...word processor...whatever...are likely to piss off more than just a few of the people out there who have been faithfully following this story since it began way back in August. Four days after posting Chapter 37, I finished Chapter 38. In fact, by Friday evening (the day after posting 37), more than 80% of the story was written. I then took Saturday and most of Sunday off and finished the story up Monday afternoon.

Be sure that you title any hate mail "BlackHawk Sucks!" so I know what I'm getting into before I sit down to read it. :-)

There's a perfectly good explanation...TWO perfectly good explanations...for me not posting right away. #1) Remember when I was posting EVERY day? Some of you do, surely. Well, I didn't want everyone to start expecting me to have EVERY chapter (however many few are left...we ARE coming to a close with this story after all) done four days after the previous one was posted. This two-week posting schedule has been good for me, and I know that sounds selfish...and I'm sorry...but I'm sticking to it. #2) I wasn't entirely SURE I wanted to post what I wrote. I wanted someone to look over the chapter before I posted it, just in case I needed to scrap the thing and re-write it from scratch. It's happened before. Hell, it happened with Chapter 36...I scrapped the whole thing two days before I posted it and had to re-write it from the ground up!

Even after I got it back from the person who read it for me, I still had a week...but, like I said, the two week rotation is good for me, so that's what I'm sticking with. The extra time allows me to work on other stories. You guys like stories, right? Well...I'm working on them. I hope to have something new (besides this chapter) posted within the next few days, as well as a story posted next week for Thanksgiving. That's the kind of stuff a relaxing two week posting schedule allows me to do. Hopefully everyone understands. And, hey, before you guys start ranting and raving about how I should'a posted right away...I COULD have just kept you guys in the dark about how quickly I had this chapter written...but no(!) I wanted to keep MY readers in the loop...even if it means everyone hates me! :-)

All that being said, I really don't know how this chapter is going to be received. It ties up a loose end mentioned WAY back in the chapter where the Weasleys host a dinner for Kingsley Shacklebolt. It also jumps ahead to the beginning of July (the last chapter took place in the first week of June). Don't worry, nothing really important happened during that month anyway (did I mention Hermione got pregnant? JUST KIDDING!!!! Stop with the hate mail already!!!). Of course, the reason I don't know how it will be received is because there's a rather long speech in the middle, and something happens near the end that MIGHT make some people angry. You're dying to see what it is, aren't you??? I'm not done my Notes yet, so relax!! Just like Frankie-Goes-to-Hollywood would want you to do!

Each and every time I post one of these things, I feel the need to thank my reviewers, and this time is no exception. I mean, these people have been kind enough to review this story (collectively) 472 times! I'd say that deserves at least a gracious nod in their direction! To that end, **Edinburgh Love**, **Ann Malfoy**, **Cantletharrygo**, **CutewithAcapital-Q**, **fatyellowrat**, **Avanell**, **Dizzy0305**, **katie1985**, **Elytha**, **Trude**, **mugglemamma**, **emmy1124**, **-HPfan**, **Moony3005**, **IsI Wisi**, **Lady Anja**, **embergrl9010**, **the written princess**, **MissFinnegan**, **Tiffany M**, **kareem33**, **randomguy1517**, **Shlesha**, **ronniemione**,** sarah-keyko**, **not for lack of trying**, **Emma04**, **Jacob's-One-Girl**, **Ravenhaired2**, **Nosta82**, **Aly-Cat 101**, **EnglishGirlVerity**,** marauders rox**, **Lane Joey**, **allenterrill**, **skippyboo**, **Larelles**, **kellymc1**, **xxafterglowxx**, **screamxheart**, **zsdvnn**, **Foxy-Steph**, **Kirsty-Luan**, **marvelous-fanwriter**, **hctb**, **ronlover997**, **HeatherRiddle**, **LadyInWriting**, **beautifulshamrock**, **shadowmonger**, **lemondrop43**, **watched 2 much tv**, **LaRay93**, **CwamBeta**, **Chick Flicks- Rock 'N' Roll**, **james87**, **griffyndorgirl**, **iriepotter**, **Trebius**, **Puff2836**, **FinlandGirl**, **Kate7**,** oroshi**, and** allii **all deserve a big round of applause and a hearty Arsenio-esque "Woof-Woof" with accompanying rotating-air-fisty-thing for being so kind as to review my work and to keep reading this piece of...fiction...for so very, very long.

**Disclaimer:** The Harry Potter characters and their universe belong to J.K. Rowling, and even though she made some decisions that I think are BLOODY STUPID...ahem...I still think she did an awesome job creating this fictitious realm for us to play around in.

* * *

**AFTERMATH**

**Chapter 38 -- A Time of War and Remembrance**

"Come on, Weasleys!" Arthur Weasley called up the steps to the upper floors of the Burrow, "Getting through security will take time, and we don't want to be late!"

Arthur, Molly, Charlie, Bill, and Fleur Weasley, along with John and Elizabeth Granger were assembled in the sitting room, dressed-to-the-nines, waiting for the rest of the family to make their way downstairs.

"You heard your father!" Molly yelled up the stairs, "Down here now, or we're leaving without you!"

The sound of doors opening and closing throughout the upper stories of the lopsided structure, followed immediately by the sounds of several pairs of feet running down the steps, alerted everyone on the ground floor that Mrs. Weasley had, as usual, succeeded in motivating her children.

Percy and his fiancée, Audrey were first down the stairs, walking quietly, hand-in-hand, "Audrey was helping me with my tie," Percy lied, fingering the knot at his neck and hoping his parents didn't notice the way his and Audrey's lips seemed red and swollen, "I wanted to be sure I looked respectable since we're representing the entire Weasley clan tonight."

"Then you'd better do something about your hair," George quipped, making his way down the steps with Angelina on his heels.

Percy looked curiously at George, "What's wrong with my hair?"

Grinning devilishly, George moved up next to his brother and began ruffling his fingers through Percy's hair, "It's a mess, Percy!"

"Ack! Mum…!" Percy whined, pulling away from his brother and rushing over to a mirror to fix his hair. The older Weasley brothers chuckled at this until their mother glared at them.

"Leave your brother alone!" Molly snapped, slapping George on the arm.

"And leave Hermione alone, too," Ginny added as she and Hermione made their way down the steps and into the sitting room, "It took us over an hour to get her hair to cooperate!"

Hermione blushed at the mention of the fuss made in order to get her hair – usually a bushy, chaotic mane of chestnut curls – to settle about her back and shoulders in soft, manageable ringlets.

"You look beautiful, poppet," John Granger said, smiling proudly at his daughter.

"Very nice," Elizabeth agreed, stepping up to give her daughter a quick hug.

Arthur Weasley lit a fire quickly in the fireplace as the final two sets of footsteps – by far the loudest – came tearing down the steps from the highest point in the house. Ron jumped the final few steps landing loudly in the sitting room, followed closely by Harry.

"Sorry, Mum, we were --"

"Enough excuses!" Molly snapped, moving over next to her husband, "We're all here now, so let's go."

Ron shrugged and moved over next to Hermione.

"Your hair looks great, 'Mione," Ron whispered as he reached back and ran his fingers through the soft curls on her shoulder. He had learned long ago that girls need compliments when they do themselves up…especially when they hardly ever dress up, as in the case with Hermione Granger. He reached down and took her hand, interlocking their fingers.

"Thank you, Ron," Hermione replied, blushing at her boyfriend's comments. She squeezed his hand lovingly and gave him a small, appreciative smile, "Ginny helped me with it."

"Nice job, Gin," Ron said, turning his head to regard his sister behind him. He gave a little grin as he looked at her holding onto the arm of his best mate, "Too bad you couldn't do something with that mop on Harry's head!"

"Hey…!" Harry called in protest, smiling good-naturedly, "I'll have you know, I'm attempting to be a trend-setter here."

"And you should talk, Ronniekins," Ginny said, smiling at him as she reached up and ruffled his hair in a good imitation of George's attack on Percy. Ron, however, didn't overreact as his strait-laced brother had and merely smoothed his shaggy hair back into its messy place.

With the horseplay finished, the Weasleys and their guests made their way through the Floo network to the atrium at the Ministry for Magic. The last one through was Harry who, as usual, managed to come crashing unceremoniously out of the fireplace and go skidding across the floor.

"I hate taking the Floo," Harry grumbled as Bill and Charlie helped him to his feet. Mrs. Weasley was at his side in a heartbeat, cleaning him of ash and soot and checking him for injuries.

"Are you alright, Harry-dear?" she asked, peering closely at him to assure herself that she didn't miss anything.

"He's fine, Mum," Ron groaned, rolling his eyes at the embarrassing way his mother was doting over Harry.

"Really, Mum," George added, moving over and putting his arm around Harry, crushing him against his side, "Harry killed You-Know-Who, he's not going to snuff it coming out of a fireplace!"

"That's enough out of the both of you," Mrs. Weasley ordered her two youngest sons, "Don't you dare ruin this day for me…either of you!"

"Yes, Mum," Ron and George chorused together, sufficiently cowed by their mother.

When they were once again assembled, the Weasley family and their guests moved from the atrium towards the long queue of wizards and witches waiting at the security checkpoint. The process of lining up and waiting afforded John Granger the chance to approach his daughter's boyfriend with an amused look on his face.

"I don't know what Harry's talking about," the Muggle dentist said, leaning close enough to talk to Ron without Mrs. Weasley or Mrs. Granger overhearing. Many of their conversations since the chess game in Australia took place this way, in an almost conspiratorial fashion, often causing Hermione or Elizabeth Granger to shoot worried looks at them, fearing what the two of them might just be talking about. "Floo travel is the most amazing thing I've ever experienced! It's more thrilling than any of the rides at the funfairs we used to attend when Hermione was younger!"

"If you liked that so much," Ron replied, grinning, "Remind me to let you try out my broom sometime!"

"You will do no such thing, Ronald Weasley!" Hermione cut in. She'd been eavesdropping on the conversation ever since she saw her father leaning closer to Ron. She knew better than to just leave the two of them alone together. There was no telling what sort of trouble they could get up to. "My father is not going to fly on your broom! He could get hurt!"

"Aw, 'Mione…!" Ron groaned, rolling his eyes, "Just because _you're_ afraid of flying doesn't mean _everyone_ has to avoid it!"

"Flying on a broom is dangerous," Hermione countered, doing her best not to raise her voice and draw unwanted attention in the crowded atrium, "Look at how many times you and Harry were hurt while flying on your brooms!"

"That's because we were playing Quidditch," Ron replied, "That reminds me! We should take your dad to a Quidditch match sometime!"

"Augh!" Hermione cried out in frustration, stomping away from her father and boyfriend, "Men!!"

Nearly forty-five minutes later, the fifteen members of the Weasley party had made their way through security, and were now seated in the large auditorium deep in the heart of the Ministry for Magic. The chamber was abuzz with chatter, as hundreds of other witches and wizards were seated inside the auditorium, facing a raised dais in the front of the large chamber where a single podium stood.

"I can't believe we're receiving the Order of Merlin," Ron said excitedly, turning to face Hermione.

"Hmph!" she huffed, her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes locked on the podium at the front of the room.

"Come on, Hermione," Ron pleaded, anxiously running his fingers through his red locks, "You can't honestly be angry at me, can you?"

"Do you still plan to take my father flying?" Hermione looked over at him, her jaw set.

"Hermione…you can't be serious!" he gasped, rolling his eyes. It was an off-hand comment, a joke, really, but Hermione had taken hold of it and didn't seem willing to let it go.

"I worry enough every time _you_ get on a broom, Ron," she confessed, casting her eyes down so she couldn't see his reaction, "Please don't put me through the worry of watching my father do it, too. He's a Muggle, don't forget; his chances of getting hurt would be exponentially higher!"

Ron sighed and reached out to take her hand. She didn't pull away from him, so he gave her hand a gentle squeeze, "You know I wouldn't do anything to hurt your dad," he said, his tone soft and caring, "And if it bothers you so much, I won't let him fly my broom."

"Thank you, Ron," she replied, looking up. She gave him a slight smile as the worried look in her eyes started to fade slightly. Her eyes widened and her eyebrow quirked when she noticed the wry smile on Ron's lips, "What…?"

"I still want to take him to a Quidditch match, though!"

The lights in the auditorium dimmed until only the podium on the dais was bathed in light. The chatter of the assembled witches and wizards slowly died down to a low murmur and then to complete silence as the Acting Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, strode across the stage to stand behind the podium. Taking out his wand and aiming it at his own neck, the Minister cast a spell and seconds later his voice was booming out across the darkened auditorium.

"It may come as a surprise to some of you to discover that the wizarding world has spent the last three years fighting a war." There was a sudden spate of murmuring amongst the assemblage, confirming that it did indeed surprise many of them. "It's surprising to so many of you because my predecessors made a point of hiding the truth…that on a dark night in June, three years ago, Lord Voldemort returned.

Shacklebolt's statement as well as the off-hand way in which he said the Dark Lord's name caused more murmuring amongst the crowd. Undaunted by the chatter, the Minister continued.

"There are those who would say that Cornelius Fudge concealed the truth of Voldemort's return in order to protect the wizarding community at large, just as there are those who would say Minister Fudge did what he did because he wanted to remain blind to the truth. Our purpose here tonight is not to debate the decisions made by the men who held this office before me. We are here tonight to celebrate an end of three years of bloodshed and the people who helped bring about that end; and to remember all those who were lost as a result.

"For the first two years after his return, Lord Voldemort engaged the wizarding community in a shadow war; hidden from view, he and his supporters slowly chipped away at the foundations of the wizarding world. They kidnapped, they tortured, and they killed – but always from the safety of the shadows – in an attempt to terrorize and to demoralize and to strike fear into the heart of wizarding society.

"Eleven months ago, Voldemort came out of the shadows and declared open warfare on the wizarding world. He struck first here, at the Ministry, killing my predecessor, Minister Rufus Scrimgeour, and taking direct control of the Ministry for Magic and in doing so took control of virtually all of wizarding Britain.

"Voldemort's second target that night was the home of Arthur and Molly Weasley as they celebrated the wedding of their eldest son, in an attempt to capture Harry Potter. The battle was vicious and bloody that night, but the target of Voldemort's attack escaped and spent the next nine months engaging in a shadow war of his own against the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters.

"Harry Potter and his closest and most trusted companions, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, undertook a mission of such secrecy that even now its details are known only to themselves. While the details were secret, the outcome was not: the complete and total destruction of Lord Voldemort.

"Nine months of hiding out…of sneak attacks and secret raids…came to a head two months ago within the hallowed halls of the Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, where Harry Potter stood toe-to-toe with the most evil wizard in history and brought his reign of terror to an end, once and for all. It is this victory that we have come to celebrate tonight."

Applause broke out amongst the crowd in the auditorium at the mention of the victory, and somewhere in the darkness, a group of Hogwarts graduates began a chant of "Harry, Harry!" much to the embarrassed amusement of the Boy-Who-Lived. Minister Shacklebolt smiled at the outburst and waited for it to die down before he continued.

"Wars, however, are never fought by a single person, and victory is seldom achieved without sacrifice. The war against Voldemort is no exception. Many men, women, and children – wizard and Muggle alike – paid the ultimate sacrifice in this war, and it is they who we have assembled to remember tonight."

The wall behind Minister Shacklebolt changed suddenly. The large Ministry symbol that had loomed above the dais faded away leaving a blank, white wall in its place. Images began to appear on the screen, enlarged wizard photographs with the subjects moving about as they did in life. The pictures were of those lost during the war.

Sounds of sadness and sympathy floated softly on the air inside the auditorium. Everyone recognized someone in the photographs being displayed, one-by-one on the wall. The first of the pictures was of Cedric Diggory, arguably the first casualty in the war against Voldemort. The final picture was that of Albus Dumbledore; not the final victim of the war, to be sure, but certainly its most recognizable face.

In-between, images of people the Weasleys had known flashed by, drawing out tears even from the most emotionally stunted of the Weasley clan. Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, Colin Creevy, Fred Weasley, Sirius Black, and even Severus Snape; one-by-one photographs of them flashed by on the wall along with dozens upon dozens of others.

Seeing the image of Fred up there, with his mischievous grin and the wicked gleam in his eye sent deep pangs of sorrow into the hearts of the Weasleys, but it was the pictures of Snape and Sirius that got the attention of most of the wizards and witches assembled. To the wizarding world at large, Black and Snape were die-hard Death Eaters undeserving of a memorial at a ceremony celebrating the downfall of Voldemort and his forces.

When the final image faded, the room was still abuzz with chatter from those who were surprised at the two controversial photographs that were displayed. Kingsley Shacklebolt waited for those in attendance to quiet down before he continued with his speech.

"In addition to celebrating the victory against Voldemort and remembering those we have lost in the war, we are gathered tonight to pay homage to those brave witches and wizards without whom the Dark Lord's reign of terror would not have ended. Whether well-known, or unsung, the men and women we honor here tonight are heroes…and it is to them that we pay our respects and offer our undying thanks for their part in freeing the world of Voldemort's tyranny.

"Before the awards are handed out here tonight, however, two brave men who gave their lives in the fight against Voldemort and his forces deserve to be honored. Both men have been unjustly maligned for their perceived complicity with the Dark Lord, and one of them spent twelve years in Azkaban for a crime he did not commit.

"Severus Snape was not a pleasant man; in fact, as students who attended his classes at Hogwarts could tell you, he could be downright cruel. Snape was a man who battled his own personal demons each and every day. A devout follower of Voldemort in his youth, Severus eventually renounced the Dark Lord and spent the last seventeen years of his life functioning as a spy amongst Voldemort's followers.

"While the details of his involvement in the death of Albus Dumbledore have never fully come to light, this much _is_ known about Severus Snape: during his tenure as headmaster of the Hogwarts School, Snape was instrumental in secretly protecting the students as much as possible from the pro-Voldemort administration operating the school at the time.

"If nothing else, we should _thank_ Severus Snape for protecting our children at great personal risk to himself while they were out from under the umbrella of our own protective care."

There was another burst of murmuring among the crowd as many took the Minister's words to heart and agreed with his assessment of Severus Snape. Still others, however, continued to view Snape in a negative light and made their dissent known.

"I still say he was a slimy git!" Ron said in a hushed tone, leaning across Hermione to whisper to Harry.

"Shut it, Ron," Harry whispered back curtly, drawing a goggle-eyed look from Ron.

"Wha--…?"

"Shh!" Hermione hissed, lightly slapping Ron's forearm and pushing him back towards his own seat, "Ron…! The Minister is still talking!"

Shooting a confused look at Harry and then rolling his eyes at Hermione, Ron reluctantly turned his attention back to Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"The name Sirius Black brings to mind an image of a slavering madman capable not only of slaughtering a street full of innocent Muggles, but of murdering his own best friends. Sirius Black was convicted of these crimes and sent to Azkaban Prison without benefit of a trial. New evidence has come to light, following his escape from Azkaban nearly five years ago, that Sirius Black was completely innocent of these crimes.

"The real Sirius Black was a staunch opponent of Voldemort and his supporters, a fiercely loyal friend, and a loving godfather. Despite being forced into hiding by his fugitive status, Sirius worked behind the scenes against the Dark Lord and his forces in whatever capacity he was able. In the end, Sirius died in battle protecting those he cared for deeply from the clutches of Voldemort's Death Eaters.

"Today I have the bittersweet privilege of exonerating Sirius Black of the crimes he was falsely accused of almost seventeen years ago. I only wish that I could have cleared his name while he was still alive."

Hermione was quietly crying as Minister Shacklebolt spoke about Sirius. She reached over and took Ron's hand and he squeezed it affectionately before reaching over and putting a comforting arm around her shoulders.

She looked over at Harry and could see that his emerald eyes were brimming with unshed tears. She reached over and took Harry's hand in her free hand and held it to comfort him, while she in turn was comforted by Ron.

"In honor of their service to the war effort against Voldemort and his forces, the Ministry for Magic is honored to posthumously bestow upon Severus Snape and Sirius Black the Order of Merlin, Third Class. From this day forth, may they be remembered for their heroism and gallantry."

"Gallantry?" Ron scoffed, in a near-whisper into Hermione's ear, "Maybe Sirius, but Snape?"

"Ron, hush!!" Hermione snapped. Her slightly raised voice drew looks from the people around her, including Harry and some of the Weasleys. She and Ron both blushed furiously and sank lower in their seats. She pushed Ron's arm away from her and glared at him for causing her such embarrassment.

Having either not heard the outburst or choosing to ignore it, Kingsley continued on with the ceremony, conferring honors on those who served in various capacities during the war effort.

"The war against Voldemort was not a war fought by nameless, faceless warriors in far-off battle fields. It affected everyone in the wizarding community; entire families were involved in the war effort, and there is no better example of this than the Weasley family.

"When Voldemort stepped out of the shadows after two years of behind-the-scenes manipulation and took over the Ministry, the very first battle of the war took place, literally, in the Weasley's back garden.

"Of Arthur and Molly Weasley's seven children, every single one of them fought against Voldemort, from their eldest son, Bill and his wife, Fleur, to their youngest child and only daughter, Ginny.

"And like so many other families during the war, the Weasleys paid a heavy price for their involvement. Molly and Arthur's son, Fred, was killed while battling Death Eaters during what has become known as the Battle of Hogwarts. Fred did not live to see the world free of Voldemort's tyranny, but we hope that he can rest in peace knowing that his sacrifice was not in vain.

"It is with great honor and deepest admiration for this family that I bestow upon the following Weasleys: Arthur, Molly, Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, Ginny, and Fleur the Order of Merlin, Second Class for services to the war effort above and beyond the call of duty and for unwavering dedication and bravery in the best tradition of wizards everywhere.

The Weasley family stood and made their way to the dais and the waiting Minister to the sounds of raucous applause from the wizards and witches assembled within the large auditorium. Arthur had his arm around Molly and was helping her to the stage as she was wracked with great sobs and free-flowing tears.

Kingsley Shacklebolt moved down the line, and one-by-one, he pinned a badge of honor on the dress robes of the assembled Weasleys, handing each of them a scroll containing the bona fides of their award and shaking their hands proudly.

As the Minister did this, there was a sudden eruption in the audience. The row that had only a few moments before been packed with Weasleys exploded with applause, whistles, and cat-calls as Harry Potter jumped to his feet to give his surrogate family a standing ovation they so richly deserved.

An instant later, he was joined by Ron and Hermione, and they were quickly followed by Angelina, Audrey, and the Grangers. Soon it appeared that the entire auditorium was on its feet, participating in the standing ovation for the Weasley family.

Once he had finished passing out the badges and scrolls, Kingsley handed Molly a mahogany case containing Fred's Order of Merlin. He then leaned in close and whispered something in the weeping woman's ear before hugging her affectionately and kissing her on the cheek. Shacklebolt then shook hands with Arthur once more, clapping him on the shoulder before returning to his podium and allowing the Weasleys to return the their seats.

The ovation continued for several minutes, until each of the Weasleys had returned to their seats. Kingsley had joined in with the applause, smiling broadly at the family who had been his comrades for the duration of the war. Once the ovation had died down and the assemblage returned to their seats, Kingsley continued.

"Seventeen years ago, on the night of Halloween, a great tragedy occurred. But from that tragedy was born a sense of hope that would sweep through the wizarding world and would serve as a rallying point for those witches and wizards who stood in defiance of Lord Voldemort.

"Harry Potter became the Boy-Who-Lived the night his parents were murdered by Voldemort; that very same night, Voldemort himself was defeated, although not permanently, as it was first believed. Young Mr. Potter was taken away from the wizarding world that night and raised by Muggles for the next ten years.

"During those intervening years, Mr. Potter's name became legend in the wizarding world. Harry would one day live up to that legend, though there were many who had their doubts along the way…Harry included.

"Harry would not do it alone, however. They were known as the Golden Trio, Harry and his two best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, and their penchant for getting into trouble is almost as legendary as the Boy-Who-Lived himself.

"These three young people were forced to grow up much too fast, as it seemed that, every year from their first moment stepping onto the grounds of Hogwarts, they were going up against Voldemort in one way or another. They were forced to leave their childhood behind in order to ensure that their children, and their children's children would have the peace and freedom to embrace childhood, secure in the knowledge that our world's greatest evil had finally been vanquished.

"I do not exaggerate when I say that without the efforts of Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ronald Weasley during the last nine months of the war, Voldemort would _not_ have been defeated. These three teenagers shouldered a burden that no ten wizards twice their age should have to carry. The very fate of the world rested in their hands.

"I have gotten to know these three amazing young people over the course of the last three years, and I can say with conviction that the world could not have been in safer hands. That being said, it is with a monumental amount of pride that I now confer upon the Golden Trio…Harry James Potter, Ronald Bilius Weasley, and Hermione Jean Granger…the wizarding world's highest honor, the Order of Merlin, First Class for unfaltering courage in the face of overwhelming evil and for bringing peace to the wizarding world…may it last a thousand years!

Kingsley's final words were barely heard, however, as Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way to the dais to a thunderous ovation that threatened to tear the roof off of the Ministry itself. The Trio moved down the row of Weasleys towards the aisle leading to Kingsley, hugging and kissing their way through the family as each of the members and their guests beamed with pride.

They made their way up the dais and stood in a row as Kingsley made his way to each of them, pinning their badges of honor to their chests and presenting each of them with a handshake and a scroll containing the bona fides of the Order of Merlin.

The ruckus coming from the Weasley children was the loudest of all the noise coming from the applauding audience. Cat-calls, whistles, and shouting echoed throughout the massive auditorium. As Shacklebolt reached Ron and pinned his badge to him, Ginny, George, and Angelina began a rousing chorus of "Weasley is Our King" which was quickly taken up by other recent Hogwarts alumni in attendance, causing Ron to blush to the tips of his ears.

Once he finished handing out the awards to the Trio, Shacklebolt handed Harry a mahogany case similar to the one he'd given Mrs. Weasley. Harry looked a bit confused until he looked at the golden nameplate on the case.

_Sirius Black  
__Order of Merlin, Third Class_

Harry briskly shook Kingsley's hand and thanked him for case and was almost immediately engulfed in a hug by Hermione. Once she let go of Harry, she threw herself into Ron's arms and hugged him tightly, tears of pride flowing down her cheeks.

Chuckling at her tears, Ron kissed Hermione to the cheers of his brothers. He then led her by the hand back to their seats, where they were hugged and kissed once again as they made their way down the row to retake their seats.

Harry followed behind, continuing to gaze down at his godfather's award. It had taken seventeen years, but Sirius' name was finally cleared. He would no longer be viewed as a mass-murderer and a madman; he would be seen as a hero. Harry smiled proudly, fighting back the tears as he, too, made his way down the Weasley's row, getting hugged and kissed and slapped on the back until he also once again took his seat.

The raucous ovation took much longer to die down this time, but once it did, Shacklebolt continued on with the ceremony. It was more than two hours before the entire affair was over.

As the Weasley clan and their guests made their way back towards the atrium to Floo back to the Burrow, it was all too obvious that something had happened to change the mood of the evening, and Ron, for one, was _not_ happy.

"Can you bloody believe it?!" he yelled, not caring who heard him, "_'Awards for Services Rendered in Support of the War Effort'_?!"

"Ron, please don't curse," Hermione said, squeezing his arm in an effort to calm him down. Ron's outburst was drawing stares from other witches and wizards as they, too, made their way to Floo home.

"Now, now, son," Arthur said, putting a hand on his son's shoulder, knowing how badly his youngest son's temper could get out of control, "That award is nothing but a meaningless bit of fluff designed to save face."

"I guess with enough money, there's nothing that can't be bought," Harry said snidely. He was obviously as angry as Ron, but he preferred to internalize his anger and brood whereas Ron liked to let it out and explode.

"Yeah, but the Malfoys?! Come on!" Ron exclaimed, throwing his arms about angrily, accidentally dislodging Hermione, "They were Death Eaters for Merlin's sake! They deserve to rot in Azkaban with the rest of Voldemort's toadies!"

"You'd better mind your tongue, Weasel!" the drawling voice of Draco Malfoy sneered as he stepped up behind them, "Your family may be Ministry darlings _now_, but my family still holds a great deal of influence within the wizarding world!"

"All the influence and money in world won't be able to buy you the truth," Hermione snapped, glaring at the cold-eyed blonde.

"How dare you speak to me, you Mudbloo—ACK!"

Before Draco could finish his hate-filled slur, Ron sprung into action. Grabbing Malfoy by the throat and shoving him hard into the wall, the fiery-tempered redhead growled menacingly at the bane of his years at Hogwarts.

"Finish that sentence, Malfoy, and I swear that it will be the _last_ thing you ever say!"

Draco was about to throw out another one of his infamous insults, but something in Ron's eyes told the intolerant little twerp that he was deadly serious. He began frantically looking around for someone to help him.

"Ronald!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, shocked at her son's actions.

"Ron, let go of him!" Hermione pleaded, grabbing her boyfriend's arm, afraid of what he might do, "The Malfoys aren't _worth_ this! Please!"

"You should listen to your Mudblood girlfriend, young Weasley," Lucius Malfoy said in his oily voice as he came into view, "It's quite obvious that she is the brains of your little Golden Trio. Although, I must say, Miss Granger…you'd be _surprised_ what the Malfoys are _worth_."

Ron looked from Lucius to Hermione to Draco. His blood felt like it was boiling in his veins. He wanted to destroy Malfoy…both of them…for daring to call the woman he loved such a horrible name. She was a thousand times better than the entire Malfoy family combined, and for them to belittle her for her Muggle heritage?

"ACK!!!" Draco gasped for breath, his cold, grey eyes bugging out of his head as Ron's grip tightened. A crowd of on-lookers was starting to form, and an excited buzz could be heard in the air as they whispered frantically about the scene unfolding before them.

"RON!!" Hermione, Molly, and Arthur all yelled at the same time, trying to urge him to let Draco go. The rest of the Weasleys merely looked on, some in shock, some smiling in silent encouragement of their brother's rough treatment of the little bigot.

A gentle-yet-firm hand being placed on Ron's shoulder drew his attention away from Draco Malfoy, and he loosened his grip slightly. Looking over his shoulder, he saw John Granger standing next to him, looking intently at Lucius.

"Excuse me, Mr. Malfoy," John said in a calm, diplomatic voice, "What did you call my daughter?"

The tension in the air was incredibly thick as John Granger and Lucius Malfoy looked each other up and down. Malfoy wore a smug sneer while Dr. Granger's face was impassive.

"I do believe I called her a _Mudblood_," Malfoy said, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly.

"That certainly doesn't sound complimentary," John said, deadpan. He looked sideways at his daughter, "What exactly does that word mean, poppet?"

"Daddy…don't worry about it," Hermione said, starting to sound desperate. She really wanted this situation to end so everyone could just go happily along their way back to the Burrow, "Let's just leave…we're causing a scene!"

"It means she has dirty blood," Ron said angrily, spitting the words out as if they left a bad taste in his mouth, "That she's inferior because she's a Muggle-born. Frankly it's disgusting!"

"Ron!" Hermione snapped. She did not want her parents involved in this aspect of her life in the wizarding world. She wanted to share the magic and the wonder with her parents, not the hatred and prejudice, not after fighting so hard to put an end to Voldemort and his bigotry.

"Apologize, sir," John Granger said, his voice rising slightly.

"Apologize? To _her_?" Lucius Malfoy sneered, "Good Lord, man, you must be mad!"

No one in the atrium would have figured John Granger for a violent man, especially his wife and daughter. Seeing him throw a punch that knocked Lucius Malfoy off his feet had them so stunned they had no idea how to react.

"You filthy Muggle!" Lucius Malfoy hissed, pulling himself back to his feet, "How dare you lay a finger on me?!"

Malfoy's cold grey eyes flashed murderously as he lunged towards John Granger. His wand was out and pointed at the Muggle's heart before the dentist knew how to react. Malfoy had let his anger get the better of him, and had not taken into consideration the eleven Weasleys who now, to-a-one, had their wands aimed at him.

"I think it's time you and your family went home, Lucius," Arthur said glaring angrily at the man who had nearly gotten his daughter killed so many years ago.

Knowing that he was beaten, Lucius dropped his wand to his side. He stood up straight and smoothed back his mane of long, platinum-blonde hair, once again adopting the air of superiority that he was so famous for.

"Come along, Draco," Lucius said, sounding almost bored, "We needn't sully ourselves with the likes of these _Weasleys_."

Arthur moved over and grabbed Ron's arm, pulling him away from Draco. Ron sighed and reluctantly let go, but not before shooting Draco a meaningful look full of malice. Draco quailed slightly before straightening himself out and attempting to match his father's tone.

"Of course, father," Draco said, doing his best to hide the tremor in his throat. He moved quickly to his father's side, and followed him anxiously towards a fireplace that would return them to Malfoy Manor.

With the spectacle coming to a close before them, the crowd of on-lookers began to disperse and make their way to their own fireplaces to Floo home.

"I suggest we follow suit," Arthur said, running his fingers through his thinning hair, "Let's go home, Weasleys."

Several minutes later, the Weasleys, the Grangers, and all associated significant others had made their way to the Burrow via the Floo network. There was a sense of tension in the air, and as Mrs. Weasley eyed her children eventually falling on Ron, the tension came to a head.

"All I wanted was one simple night where this sort of…_foolishness_…does not happen!" Molly yelled, getting red in the face, "Do you know how badly you embarrassed this family, Ronald?!"

"But Mum," Ron interjected sheepishly, "They've got no right calling Hermione that horrible name!"

"Of course they don't!" Molly agreed, causing Ron to smile slightly, until she went on yelling at him, "But your behavior was atrocious, Ronald; choking that boy like that!"

"Draco Malfoy's a ruddy Death Eater just like his father!" Ron argued, "His whole family should be sharing a cell in Azkaban, not walking around getting awards from the Ministry!"

"That's enough!" Molly yelled, turning her back, "I don't want to hear any more. I'm going to make some tea and attempt to calm my nerves! I just want to put this whole night…and those horrible Malfoys…behind me!"

Molly stormed out of the sitting room and into the kitchen. The sound of a tea kettle being banged around could be heard for several moments before the kitchen grew silent once again.

Ron stood in the center of the sitting room, looking down at his shoes. He could feel the eyes of everyone in the room on him and the unwanted attention caused him to blush deeply. He knew he was wrong, but he just couldn't stomach Malfoy insulting Hermione.

"I'd better go see if I can calm Molly down," Arthur said as he slowly, almost tentatively, left the room in search of his wife.

"I'll be up in my room," Harry said, trying at least a little to hide the anger in his voice.

"Hang on, Harry…I'll come with you," Ginny said, hurrying up the stairs behind her boyfriend. She cast a look over her shoulder at her brother, knowing that he wasn't done getting an earful about tonight; not if the look on Hermione's face was an indication.

"I think Fleur and I will head on home," Bill said, moving over and patting his younger brother on the back, "We'll just go say our goodbyes to Mum and Dad."

"I think Audrey and I should leave as well," Percy said, following the oldest of the Weasley children out of the room. As he passed by Ron, Percy took a second to whisper something in his younger brother's ear…something Ron was not expecting, "I'm proud of you, Ron."

Ron looked up, stunned, but the look on Percy's face as he left the room in no way betrayed the unexpected sentiment he had expressed to his youngest brother. Ron couldn't help the self-satisfied grin that played across his lips as he once again looked down at his shoes.

Charlie followed his brothers out of the room, affectionately punching his brother in the arm, "Later, Ronnie."

As the ratio of Weasleys to Grangers slowly changed in favor of the Muggle family, the tension in the room seemed to increase. With the uncomfortable atmosphere in the room, George Weasley did the only thing he could think to do…he made things worse!

"Nice job with Malfoy, Ronnie," George said, reaching up to ruffle his baby brother's hair, "Although I must say, next time, you should just go ahead and snuff the little ferret!"

"Don't encourage him!!" Hermione yelled, turning her ire against George.

George smirked at Hermione and was just about to fire a chiding barb her way when he was cut off by Angelina. "I think we should go, George."

"How's that?" he asked, looking at her quizzically.

Angelina rolled her eyes in frustration and grabbed George by the hand, leading him out of the room, "You're a prat, you know that?"

"Well, sure, _I_ know that," George laughed as he allowed Angelina to drag him from the room, "I just didn't think _you_ knew that!"

Soon, Ron was the only Weasley left in the room with the three Grangers. Elizabeth stood off to the side, her arms folded across her chest as she watched the scene unfolding before her with interest. John stood near the fireplace, nursing his hand as he gazed down at the floor. He, too, knew he was in for it. Hermione was the most animated of the Grangers as she paced back-and-forth in front of Ron, fuming.

"Why do you let him _get_ to you like that?!" she exclaimed finally, throwing her arms up in frustration as she questioned her boyfriend.

"Who? George?" Ron looked up at her, playing dumb.

"Not George!" Hermione yelled, "Malfoy! He's been pulling this sort of nonsense since First Year and you fall for it every time!"

"Hark who's talking!" Ron shot back, "I seem to recall someone in this room who slapped that bloody ferret square across the face during Third Year, and I'm sorry to say it wasn't me!"

"That was different," she said, waving a hand at Ron dismissively, "Malfoy was the reason that Buckbeak was sentenced to death!"

"You're right, that _was_ different," Ron agreed, "Buckbeak was just a bloody animal. _You_, on the other hand, are probably the most brilliant witch that Hogwarts has ever produced, and you don't deserve to be treated like you're less of a person just because you're Muggle-born!"

"The rubbish Malfoy says doesn't bother me," Hermione snapped, "Why should it bother you?! What are you…ashamed?!"

"Yes, okay?!" he yelled, "I'm ashamed! Happy?!"

Hermione's eyes widened in shock and she brought her hand up to her mouth as she tried to stifle her gasp, "You-you're ashamed of me?" she asked, her voice trembling as tears pricked her eyes.

"What?! NO!!" Ron yelled, unable to believe what she had just asked him, "How can you…? Hermione…I'm _ashamed_ that this is the culture I come from; where pureblood racists like Malfoy treat half-bloods and Muggle-borns like they're less than human! You're so much more than the Malfoys ever could be…how can they treat you like you're less than nothing when...bloody Hell, 'Mione, you're _everything_!"

Ron looked down at his feet, blushing furiously, embarrassed by his confession. Hermione stood looking at him in open-mouthed shock. Ron could see Hermione moving out of the corner of his eye, and he looked up just in time to see her fling herself at him. Hermione threw her arms around Ron's neck and kissed him deeply, completely ignoring the fact that her parents were in the room with them.

"Ahem!"

Ron and Hermione jumped apart at the sound of Mr. Granger clearing his throat.

"I'm glad the two of you have kissed and made up," he said, frowning a bit, "Although I think I would have preferred _not_ to have seen the kiss."

"Sorry, Daddy."

"Sorry, sir."

"Now that Ron is out of the doghouse," Dr. Granger began, smiling wryly at his daughter and her boyfriend, "There _is_ a more pressing matter that I think needs to be dealt with."

"You're right, John," Elizabeth said, looking at her husband, a stern look on her face, "And that matter is just what in the world you thought you were _doing_ throwing hands with that man like you were back in university!"

"Lizzieeeeee," John whinged, rolling his eyes, "You heard what that Malfoy called our little girl!"

"Yes, I did," she replied, "And I also saw the way he pointed that wand at you like he was going to…to…" she couldn't bring herself to finish her sentence.

"I'm sorry, love, alright?" Mr. Ganger said, looking at his wife pleadingly, "You have every right to yell at me, and I'm fully prepared to let you…later. Right now, though, there _is_ something of immediate importance that needs to be handled."

"And what is that, John?" Mrs. Granger asked, hands on her hips and her eyes full of sternness. She watched as he gingerly lifted his right hand into view, revealing how swollen it was.

"I think I broke my bloody hand!"

**-- End Chapter --**

**Author's End Notes:** Okay, show of hands...who's pissed off that the Malfoys are walking around free-and-clear in this chapter? Remember when I said something in this chapter was gonna piss people off?! Well, that was it!!! Now, before I get a ton of hateful reviews telling me that Lucius Malfoy not being jailed is unbelievable and COMPLETELY STUPID, let me say this...IT WAS **_NOT_** MY IDEA!!!!! When I began this story way-back-when, my intention was to TRY and make this comply with what JKR said happened post-_DEATHLY HALLOWS_. And in a webchat interview she gave on the Leaky Cauldron website, JKR herself stated that the Malfoys managed to "weasel their way out of trouble". Here's a transcript...

_**Georgina:** Did lucius malfoy, and all the other escaped death eaters, go back to azkaban?  
__**J.K. Rowling:** No, the Malfoys weaseled their way out of trouble (again) due to the fact that they colluded (albeit out of self-interest) with Harry at the end of the battle._

Do I agree with her decision? HELL NO! The Malfoys should'a been dropped in a deep, dark hole full of blast-ended skrewts and acromantulas before having burbotuber pus dumped on the lot of them! Still, with Malfoy around, it does give me an opportunity for a little action near the end, yeah?

Okay, so, as usual, review the story if you want...tell me you hate it...tell me I suck...whatever...just...y'know...just be INTERESTING when you do! Don't just say "Hey 'Hawk, you suck!" Give me something like "Hey 'Hawk, I've got a Shop-Vac that doesn't suck as much as you!!" Or, "'Hawk, your story BLOWS so hard, it should'a been a PORN STAR!!!" Heh!

In any event, I'm working on Ch. 39 now. No matter when it's done, it will be posted in two weeks! For you American folks out there, have a Happy Thanksgiving...and for you other folks...well...have a happy two week wait! (Man, I sound like a prick!)

'Hawk

* * *


	39. Harry Potter Day

**Author's Notes:** I. Am. PISSED! I tried to post this bloody chapter LAST NIGHT around 10:00 (EST), and after typing out my spontaneous author's notes and clicking the damn [SAVE] button down below, the motherlovin' FanFiction site kicked me out and said I needed to LOG IN! I already HAD logged in, mind you, before uploading this frickin' chapter!! So, the notes were deleted (thanks a LOT FanFiction!!!), my time was wasted, and my ding-dangle (I needed a good swear word here, but everything I could think of was too harsh for me to type) evening was RUINED.

Thanks a lot FanFicition. I hate you.

*sigh*

Okay. Deep breaths. Deep...cleansing...breaths. In with the GOOD hostility...out with the BAD hostility. Wait...that doesn't sound quite right.

In any event, here's Chapter 39, such as it is. Does that sound as though I'm a bit down-in-the-mouth to you? Well, see, here's the deal...I'm not very HAPPY with this chapter. To me, it seems a bit pointless. The temptation is there to just SKIP this chapter and go right to Chapter 40, which will be the LAST chapter in this particular story. Just imagine it...going from Chapter 38 to Chapter 40, with no 39 in the middle. It would become the "Legendary Lost _**AFTERMATH**_ Chapter", and a whole series of urban legends could be born (borne?) up around it! "That was the chapter where Mrs. Weasley got an abortion!" "I heard that Ginny and Harry became addicted to Crack in that chapter!" "Ron ad Hermione grew dredlocks an became Rastafarians in chapter 39...I know a dude who knows a dude who knows another dude who read it!!" You see? It would be LEGEN...wait for it...DARY!!! All I would have to do is miss it out, not include it, "accidentally" delete it before I posted it.

Boy would you guys be PISSED!!! :-)

Seriously, though, I'm **_not_** happy with this chapter, and I really don't think it reflects my best work. It starts off well enough, but somewhere between the beginning and the ending, it starts to suck. Here's the thing, I suffered a MAJOR case of Writer's Malaise while writing this. And if that's not an actual THING, well, it SHOULD be. It wasn't writer's block. I had ideas in my head. I just didn't FEEL like writing. Dealing with my family will do that. You see, two days after I posted Chapter 38, I had to attend a pre-Thanksgiving Thanksgiving dinner with my family (my WHOLE family...aunts, uncles, cousins), and five days after that I had to do ACTUAL Thanksgiving dinner with my family (mom, dad, sis, her kids, etc). Any ONE family dinner is enough to make me want to hide in a dank, dark hole for 20 years. TWO family dinners in less than a week had me looking for that hole and wanting to curl up into the fetal position and suck my thumb until the soul-sucking depression went away. Don't get me wrong...I love my family (on a case-by-case basis) and would hate for anything bad to happen to any of them. They just have the uncanny ability...when assembled...to make me want to rip my arm off and beat myself to death with it. You remember the drummer from Def Leppard? The one who lost his arm and almost died? It wasn't a car-wreck. He had dinner with my family once. Nice to see he recovered enough to go back to drumming.

Show of hands (no pun intended)...who thinks that joke was in bad taste?

Okay, so...we've established that I'm not happy with the chapter. We've been down this road before, right? I'm ALWAYS bemoaning my work, complaining about how much it sucks, only to have dozens of reviewers pop up and tell me I'm crazy and that the chapter was good...or at least, entertaining. Let's hope it happens this time. Y'know, I've read hundreds of fanfics on this site from authors who write complete CRAP only to sing their own praises in their author's notes...man I wish I had the ego...or the completely delusional sense of self worth...those people have. The bastards.

**Edinburgh Love**, **Ann Malfoy**, **Cantletharrygo**, **CutewithAcapital-Q**, **fatyellowrat**, **Avanell**, **Dizzy0305**, **katie1985**, **Elytha**, **Trude**, **mugglemamma**, **emmy1124**, **-HPfan**, **Moony3005**, **IsI Wisi**, **Lady Anja**, **embergrl9010**, **the written princess**, **MissFinnegan**, **Tiffany M**, **kareem33**, **randomguy1517**, **Shlesha**, **ronniemione**,** sarah-keyko**, **not for lack of trying**, **Emma04**, **Jacob's-One-Girl**, **Ravenhaired2**, **Nosta82**, **Aly-Cat 101**, **EnglishGirlVerity**,** marauders rox**, **Lane Joey**, **allenterrill**, **skippyboo**, **Larelles**, **kellymc1**, **xxafterglowxx**, **screamxheart**, **zsdvnn**, **Foxy-Steph**, **Kirsty-Luan**, **marvelous-fanwriter**, **hctb**, **ronlover997**, **HeatherRiddle**, **LadyInWriting**, **beautifulshamrock**, **shadowmonger**, **lemondrop43**, **watched 2 much tv**, **LaRay93**, **CwamBeta**, **Chick Flicks- Rock 'N' Roll**, **james87**, **griffyndorgirl**, **iriepotter**, **Trebius**, **Puff2836**, **FinlandGirl**, **Kate7**,** oroshi**, **allii**, **TanaR**, **Skippy Agogo**, **Pattox0111**, and **Willing to Learn **have all posted reviews to my story and as such, they are all super-cool in my book! I appreciate each and every one of the 495 reviews they've collectively given this story. If I could, I'd buy each one of them a pony.

**Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling owns this lot, and with any luck she won't find out I've been screwing with it!

Alright, so here it is. Chapter 39. I HOPE you'll like it. But I'm not holding my breath.

* * *

**_AFTERMATH  
_Chapter 39 -- "Harry Potter Day"**

Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, slept in peaceful repose in his room at the Burrow. The very same bedroom that he had shared with its original occupant, Ron Weasley, for many summers and Christmases since the two had met nearly seven years ago.

After spending the better part of the last eighteen years as the main target of a madman's hatred, Harry Potter deserved every bit of peace that he could come by. At least, that's what _most_ of the people close to Harry believed.

There was one young man, however, closer to Harry than almost anyone, who believed that Harry's rest…while well-deserved…needed to come to an end immediately; which is why that tall redheaded young man was right now slowly inching his way across the bedroom floor, careful not to step on any loose floorboards that might give away his presence with an ill-timed _creak_.

Ron Weasley couldn't help remembering a time, almost three months ago, when he made a similar journey across the bedroom floor, wand drawn, to rudely awaken his best mate out of anger. This time, however, the rude awakening would be born out of friendship and happiness.

"Oy! Potter!!" Ron yelled as he stood over his friend's sleeping form, tapping him, rather hard, in the head with his wand.

"Huh? Wuzzat?" Harry opened up his bleary eyes and looked up at the fuzzy image of his redheaded mate looming over him, "Ron, what're you…?"

"Happy Harry Potter Day, mate!" Ron exclaimed. He aimed his wand at the ceiling and a shower of red sparks shot out like a miniature fireworks display.

"Thanks, mate, I --…_what_?!" Harry sat up, putting on his glasses and giving Ron a curious look. He knew that today was his birthday, and wasn't too surprised by Ron's rude awakening, but he had no idea what Ron was talking about, "What's Harry Potter Day?"

Ron threw his head back and let out a sharp bark of laughter before tossing a rolled up copy of _The Daily Prophet_ into Harry's lap, "Only you could be completely in the dark when your birthday is made into a national bloody holiday!"

Harry quickly unrolled the newspaper and looked at the front page, gawking. He then proceeded to wipe the sleep from his eyes and clean his glasses off to make sure he'd read the headline correctly. Sure enough, bold as day the paper read:

_**A National Holiday for a National Hero!**_

_The Ministry for Magic has officially named 31 July as Harry Potter Day in celebration of the accomplishments of the Boy-Who-Lived. The holiday, falling on Mr. Potter's birthday, will be celebrated by the wizarding community throughout Great Britain, and is set to include the dedication of a statue in Diagon Alley honoring Mr. Potter and his victory over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named as well as nighttime fireworks displays in various wizarding communities throughout the United Kingdom._

_Mr. Potter, a recent recipient of the Order of Merlin, could not be reached for comment, but a source close to the Boy-Who-Lived had this to say: "Bugger off, you lot! Harry wants his privacy!"_

_It is believed that Mr. Potter will be joining the Auror Academy in the fall, although Ministry spokesmen will neither confirm nor deny this. When asked to comment on Mr. Potter's involvement with the Auror Corps, the source close to Mr. Potter said: "Didn't I tell you to bugger off?!"_

"What the --…? When did --…? How can --…? Huh?" Harry looked up at Ron, confusion written all over his face.

"A couple days after the awards ceremony, Kingsley came to Dad and told him the Ministry was going to honor you with your own holiday," Ron explained, grinning at his friend. Ron moved to the beat-up old desk near the window, pulled out the rickety old desk chair and plopped down into it.

"…" Speechless, Harry merely goggled at Ron.

"Dad knew you'd tell them to bugger off if they offered you your own holiday, so we kept it a secret," the redhead said, leaning back in the desk chair, making it _creak_ dangerously.

"Speaking of _buggering off_," Harry said, looking down at the article, "Who's this 'source close to Mr. Potter'?"

Ron coughed nervously as his ears turned bright red, "It's no secret that we're best mates; a reporter showed up at the shop last week asking questions about you. I couldn't help myself."

Harry chuckled slightly. Ron could certainly be counted on to be temperamental and tactless. He could imagine the reporter's face as he faced Ron. The lighthearted look on his face faded, however, as the enormity of the entire situation sunk in.

"You were keeping this a secret?!" Harry exclaimed, unable to believe his ears, "Why?"

"If we told you, what would you have said?" Ron asked, shrugging.

"I would have said 'no'!" Harry assured his friend, tossing the newspaper down on the bed, "What the Hell do I need a holiday for?"

"You're the Boy-Who-Won, mate," Ron replied, grinning, "You saved the whole bloody world, and people want to honor you for that. Get used to it."

"How many people know about this?" Harry asked, starting to feel overwhelmed.

"Erm…well…" Ron looked sheepish as he answered Harry's question, "All of wizarding Britain…except for you."

"Bloody Hell…" Harry cursed, falling back onto the bed and rubbing his temples, "This isn't me, Ron…_Harry Potter Day_? The Order of Merlin was an honor, but this…!"

"It gets worse, mate," Ron said, frowning, "Or better, depending on your point-of-view."

"How could this get any _worse_, Ron?!" Harry asked, craning his head up to look at his friend. Ron shrugged and tossed a small package at him, "What…?"

"Happy Birthday," Ron said, nodding at the messily-wrapped present he'd just tossed to his friend.

"Cheers, mate," Harry replied, tearing into the package. Ron smirked as he imagined the surprise awaiting his best friend upon opening the gift. Harry's eyes nearly bugged out of his head as he pulled a Chocolate Frog Card out of the package. "Is this some kind of joke?!"

"No joke, mate," Ron smiled, knowing full-well whose face was looking back at Harry from the Famous Wizards Card in his hand.

Harry looked at the card, blinking incredulously. He held the card up for Ron to see and the emerald green eyes of the Boy-Who-Lived looked up at him. "Ron…what am I doing on a Chocolate Frog card?!"

"Didn't we just go over this?" Ron replied with a smirk. He motioned with his head towards the newspaper and the headline that had gotten Harry all worked up a few minutes ago, "You're the bloody Boy-Who-Lived…or…Won…or…_whatever_! You are the hottest thing to hit the wizarding world since Quidditch! With you saving the world and all, people want a piece of that."

Harry looked up, frowning. _That_ was exactly what he was worried about: everyone wanting a piece of him. That was the exact reason he had been avoiding the media and just about everyone else who wasn't a close friend since the end of the war. He wanted peace and privacy…he didn't want to be in the spotlight anymore; never had, in fact.

"We're carrying Chocolate Frogs at the joke shop now, as well as other Harry Potter merchandise," Ron explained, "George calls it 'striking while the iron is hot'. 'Course, he also calls it 'exploiting the situation', but never when he thinks anyone can hear him."

"Nice to know George is turning a profit from my discomfort," Harry grumbled, folding his arms across his chest in a pout.

"Harry…come on, mate, relax!" Ron could see Harry was well on his way to a good brood, and he pointedly wanted to prevent that, "It's your birthday…for one day, can't you just enjoy the fact that the entire wizarding world adores you?"

"How would _you_ feel," Harry said harshly, causing Ron to recoil slightly, "If it was _your_ face staring up at you from a Chocolate Frog card, and the whole damn world was treating you like some kind of savior? Be thankful they don't shine this kind of spotlight on you!"

Ron grumbled something under his breath and headed for the door. Before he left the room, he picked up the partially unwrapped gift he'd given Harry and emptied the remaining contents on the bed. As Ron left and closed the door, Harry looked at the two other Chocolate Frog cards lying on the bed. Harry's eyebrows shot up towards the scar in the middle of his forehead as he gaped at the faces looking up from the cards…the faces of Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.

Getting the feeling that he not only ruined some sort of surprise Ron had for him, but also gave the temperamental redhead a lamentable shot to his fragile self-esteem, Harry got up and threw on a bathrobe before heading out of his bedroom in search of his best friend.

On the way down the steps, Harry ran into Ginny on her way up. She was carrying a tray full of food and smiled brightly as she ran into her boyfriend.

"Happy Birthday, Harry!" Ginny said, grinning brightly, her brown eyes shining happily, "I was just bringing you breakfast-in-bed…"

"Thanks, Gin," Harry replied, flashing the youngest Weasley a half-hearted smile, "Uh…have you seen Ron?"

Ginny's smile faded slightly at the mention of her brother, "Yeah, he's downstairs talking to Dad. Why?"

"I really need to talk to him about something," he said, looking past her down the stairs.

"Oh," she said, obviously crestfallen, "Well, can't it wait until after breakfast?"

He turned to face her and was about to tell her that he wasn't really hungry and that talking to Ron was more important than eating right now, but when he saw her face he couldn't bring himself to do that to her.

"Of course it can, Gin," Harry said, smiling, "That looks really delicious. I'll just catch up with Ron later."

Ginny's smile returned with full force and she beamed at him. "Get back up to your room, then. You can't very well have breakfast-in-bed, if you're not in bed, now can you?"

"No, I guess not," he agreed, turning and making his way back up the rickety stairs to his attic bedroom.

Once inside, Ginny insisted that he get back in bed so he could have the full breakfast-in-bed experience. He reluctantly did as he was told, and was soon sitting with his back against the headboard with the tray across his lap and a napkin tucked under his chin.

"I really hope you like it, Harry," Ginny said as she took a seat on the desk chair that Ron had been sitting in a few short minutes ago, "I cooked it myself."

"I'm sure it'll be great, Gin," Harry took a tentative bite of the eggs and did his best not to scowl at their too-salty taste. He washed it down with a gulp from his glass of pumpkin juice, "Delicious, Gin. You're a brilliant cook."

"Thanks, Harry!" Ginny replied with a happy smile. She leaned in and gave him a peck on the cheek, "I'm so glad you like it. Mum said I was using too much salt, but I told her it was fine. I'm glad to see I was right!"

Not wanting to hurt the feelings of a second Weasley this morning, Harry continued to choke down the salty eggs, thankful that Ginny had provided him with a very large glass of pumpkin juice.

As Ginny sat watching Harry eat the breakfast she had painstakingly prepared…the Muggle way, since she still wasn't quite seventeen and couldn't use magic to do it…the sight of a few Chocolate Frog cards scattered atop Harry's bed caught her eye.

"Are these the new Famous Wizards Cards?" Ginny asked, picking the cards up off the bed. She smiled at the three faces she knew so well, "Can you believe that you, Ron, and Hermione are on Chocolate Frog cards? I have to say I'm a little jealous."

"Don't be, Gin," Harry replied after washing down another mouthful of eggs, "I'd just as soon _not_ be on a Chocolate Frog card."

"I wouldn't let Ron know that," she said, frowning slightly, "Ron had to buy two whole cases of Chocolate Frogs to get cards of all three of you…and you know George doesn't give him a discount."

_"Great, more guilt,"_ Harry thought, grimacing.

"So, how does it feel to be eighteen?" she asked, reaching over and stealing a slice of his toast.

"I guess it should feel strange," he said, shrugging, "In the Muggle world, when you turn eighteen, you're legally an adult…although, to be honest, I don't feel any more grown up than I did yesterday."

"Well, look at Ron," Ginny said, with a sly grin, "He's been a legal adult for a while now, and he's still an immature prat."

Harry chuckled a bit at what Ginny said, but deep down, Harry couldn't help thinking that Ron may be immature, but he had certainly done more towards being an adult than he, himself, had. Ron, at least, had a job and was no longer living at home.

Harry swallowed the last bite of eggs with the help of his last mouthful of pumpkin juice, "Thanks for breakfast, Gin. It was the best breakfast-in-bed I've ever had." Of course, it was the _only_ breakfast-in-bed he'd ever had, not counting meals eaten while a patient in Hogwarts' hospital wing.

"You're welcome, Harry," Ginny beamed, leaning over and kissing him, "Happy Birthday."

By the time Harry managed to make his way downstairs, Ron was nowhere to be seen, but Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were rushing around, busily decorating the Burrow. A party had been planned for Harry, one part birthday party, one part Harry Potter Day celebration. Before he could get out the door in search of Ron, however, he was set upon by Molly Weasley.

"Harry, dear!" squealed Mrs. Weasley, bustling over to wrap him up in a bone-crushing hug, "Happy Birthday!"

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," Harry croaked, his lungs screaming for air.

"I do hope Ginny's attempt at breakfast wasn't too dreadful for you," she said, giving him a motherly smile and gently stroking his cheek.

"No, it was fine," he fibbed, "Besides, I've had a lot worse."

Mrs. Weasley frowned at this, thinking about all those years Harry was forced to live with the horrible Dursleys. Merlin only knew what sorts of inedible rubbish Harry had been forced to eat while under their roof. If only she had been the one to raise him, she felt sure that he'd have grown up happy instead of being so prone to brooding as he was now.

"Well, dear, tonight we'll be having all your favorites," she said, planting a kiss on his cheek before scurrying off to the kitchen to take care of some things, "It's your day, after all."

Harry winced inwardly. _His_ day; Harry Potter Day. He sighed, knowing that there was no way he'd ever get used to _that_. After all, what eighteen-year-old boy…man…_whatever_ would be able to wrapping his mind around having a _national holiday_ dedicated in his honor? Harry was snapped out of his reverie by Mr. Weasley clapping him on the shoulder.

"Happy Birthday, Harry," Mr. Weasley said, looking a bit sheepish. He'd had a talk with Ron about Harry's reaction to the newspaper article, and knew how unhappy Harry was with the holiday honoring him.

"Thanks, Mr. Weasley," Harry said, nodding politely.

"I spoke to Ron before you came down, and if you'll permit me, I'd like to apologize to you, Harry," Arthur said, drawing a surprised look from the birthday boy, "When Kingsley first suggested it to me, I told him that you'd want no part in this _Harry Potter Day_; that this was the sort of thing that you would shun."

"You're right," Harry agreed.

Arthur nodded and then continued, "But then Kingsley convinced me that this is the sort of thing people need to get over the devastation a war can cause."

"Fine, but why did they have to call it Harry Potter Day?" he asked bitterly, "Why couldn't they just keep me out of it?"

"I'm sorry, Harry, I know this is all rather distasteful to you," Arthur said, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder in an attempt to mollify him, "If it helps at all, perhaps you should look at it this way: there are _two_ Harry Potters."

Harry's eyes widened as he tried and failed to understand what Mr. Weasley was getting at, "I don't…"

"There's Harry Potter, the _man_," Mr. Weasley went on, explaining, "And Harry Potter, the _symbol_. Harry Potter, the man, is _you_…the person Mrs. Weasley and I have proudly watched grow up over the last seven years; the person we've come to love every bit as much as one of our own children."

Harry blushed at this. He knew he felt the same way, that he viewed the Weasleys as his family, but to tell another man that he loved him was something Harry just didn't have in him. It had been hard enough to say to Ginny, since it was the first time the phrase _"I love you"_ ever came out of his mouth.

"Harry Potter, the symbol," Mr. Weasley continued, either not noticing or not choosing to bring attention to Harry's embarrassed blushing, "Is the larger-than-life _hero_ everyone else thinks of when they hear your name; the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One…_that_ is Harry Potter, the symbol, and _that_ is who this holiday is for."

"I don't want to be a symbol," Harry said, frowning, "I just want to live my life _outside_ the spotlight for once."

"Well, if it will make you feel any better, Harry," Arthur began, giving the young man before him a sympathetic look, "From this moment on, there will be _no_ mention of Harry Potter Day in this house."

Harry smiled gratefully at Mr. Weasley and nodded in acceptance of the compromise. The rest of the world may think of him as the Boy-Who-Lived, but he knew that as long as he was in the company of the Weasleys, he'd just be a boy named Harry.

"I appreciate that, Mr. Weasley," Harry said, giving him a small grateful smile, "Now, if you don't mind, I really need to talk to Ron. Do you know where he is?"

"He said he was off to work," Arthur revealed, "I do believe he only came over this morning to wish you a happy birthday and give you your gift. Did he?"

"Yeah, he did, thanks," Harry nodded, making his way to the front door.

"Harry, wait; you're --…!"

Before Arthur Weasley could finish his sentence, Harry had stepped out onto the front stoop of the Burrow, pulled his wand out of his robe pocket and Disapparated with a _crack_! Seconds later, he reappeared inside the stock room of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

There was no sign of anyone in the storage room, so Harry did what anyone would do when looking for a shop-worker…he left the back room and entered the shop itself. Unfortunately for Harry, he failed to take a couple of things into consideration.

The first thing he failed to consider was the fact that he didn't bother to dress this morning. So concerned with finding his friend and clearing the air between them, Harry left the Burrow dressed in a bathrobe, pajamas, and slippers.

The second thing Harry failed to take into consideration before entering the joke shop was that today was _Harry Potter Day_, and Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes had taken to selling Harry Potter-themed merchandise to cash in on the holiday.

It took several moments for the first customer to recognize the face of the man coming out of the back dressed in his jim-jams and baffies, but as soon as realization dawned on the face of the young woman, an ear-splitting shriek came out of her mouth that alerted the entire shop to his presence.

"IT'S HIM!!!" she squealed, clutching her plush Harry Potter snuggly-doll tight to her bosom.

As one, every person in the store turned to see what the woman was shouting about. And suddenly a wave of people, clamoring to get close to THE Harry Potter began rushing towards him, knocking down displays of merchandise and other customers with the practiced ease of a troll in a china shop.

Harry froze for a split second as the sea of humanity came screaming at him, looking more than capable of literally ripping him to pieces. Realizing the kind of peril he was in, Harry turned swiftly and threw open the stock room door, dashing inside and slamming the door shut an instant ahead of the rabid Potter-fans.

"Blimey, that was close," Harry gasped to himself, leaning up against the door, trying to catch his breath. When the customers began banging on the door, trying to get at him, Harry quickly locked the door and backed away, inadvertently tripping over a box of merchandise on the floor.

Harry landed hard on his rump as the box split open, dumping its contents on the stockroom floor. Dozens of little action figures came pouring out of the destroyed box, scurrying about the floor in every direction. Harry began trying desperately to shove the figures back in the box until a closer examination revealed what they were.

Picking three of them up off the floor, Harry found himself looking at miniscule representations of himself, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger. He was now an action figure! The sudden loud _pop_ as George Weasley Apparated into the room startled Harry, and he inadvertently dropped the miniature Golden Trio.

"Absolutely spiffing to see you, Harry," George said sarcastically, surveying the merchandise running rampant across the stock room floor, "Really corking of you to show up in your jammies and start a riot on my shop!"

"Sorry, George," Harry said sheepishly, forgetting to be indignant about the fact that George was making money off the whole _Harry Potter Day_ thing, "I reckon I wasn't thinking."

"Oy! Get back here!" George yelled as he tried to scoop all the escaped figures back into the box, "Give us a hand here, will ya', Harry?"

Nodding, Harry got to his knees and began gathering up as many of the small figures as he possibly could, trying desperately to shove them back into the ripped box. He stopped briefly as a peculiar sight took place before his eyes. A pair of the Ron and Hermione figures were waving their arms in the air at each other, apparently locked in a ferocious-yet-silent row, while a second pair of Ron and Hermione figures were snogging each other just as ferociously.

"Knock it off!" George yelled, snatching the four figures up and stuffing them back in the box, "This is ridiculous, Harry. All day long, half the Rons and Hermiones snog while the other half argue!"

"What about the Harrys?" Harry asked scooping up a handful of miniature likenesses of himself; they had been sitting apart from their snogging and arguing friends, looking pensive.

"The Harrys like to brood, mostly," George said, sounding almost apologetic…or as apologetic as George Weasley _could_ sound, "They sit off to the side with a scrunched-up look on their faces while the Rons and Hermiones go at it."

Harry gave George a sour look.

"That's the look!" George exclaimed, smiling broadly and clapping Harry on the shoulder. George held up one of the miniature Harrys and held it next to its larger counterpart. Sure enough, real Harry and toy Harry both bore the same expression.

"Not funny, George," Harry said, still scowling at the Weasley jokester.

George smiled and dropped the miniature Harry into the box, and soon enough the remainder of the figures had been gathered up and put away in the box George had repaired with his wand. They looked down, and the half of the Rons and Hermiones that had been snogging were now fighting, and the half that had been engaged in a row were now snogging.

"It's a good thing they can't get each other's clothes off," George commented, shaking the box to try and separate the snoggers, "Otherwise they'd been shagging their brains out, I reckon."

Harry gave a sharp sort of snorting laugh at George's comment, "And I suppose the miniature Harrys would still be brooding."

"Well, I tried a spell to change the way they acted, but it was chaos! The Rons and Hermiones took turns brooding, while half the Harrys tried to snog the Rons and the other half tried to snog the Hermiones," George shuddered at the memory, "All-in-all, I think its better to leave them the way they are."

Harry found himself nodding in spite of himself. As much as he hated to be stereotyped as a constant brooder, he preferred _that_ to the image of himself in an intimate embrace with either Ron _or_ Hermione. The idea of him kissing either one was just sick!

George closed and sealed the box and stuck it up on a shelf full of other boxes full of Harry Potter Day merchandise: Potter Plushies, Potter Pops, Potter-Eye Specs, Potter-Patronus Whizbangs, Potter Pudding, Potter Life-Like Stick-On Scars, and so-on and so-on. Harry shuddered to think what Potter Pudding might be.

"Not that I didn't completely _love_ the way you drove my customers wild – positively Lockhartean, if you don't mind me saying – but what are you doing here, Harry?" George asked, leaning against a table that was covered with new inventions still in the mid-invention stage, "You didn't leave the Burrow dressed like that to complain about the Harry Potter action figures we've been selling."

"No, but I should," Harry griped, scowling at George before sighing deeply, "Actually, I came to talk to Ron."

"He's in the shop, handling customers," George said, preparing to Apparate back out into the store, "I'll get him."

Once more, a loud _pop_ echoed through the stock room, and George Weasley was gone, leaving Harry all alone…or so it seemed, until Harry started to feel something moving in the pocket of his bathrobe.

A bit startled, and wondering if maybe George had slipped some sort of practical joke in his pocket, Harry put a tentative hand in his pocket only to pull out a stray Harry Potter figure. It must have scurried into his pocket during the confusion earlier caused by the busted box and the dozens of escaped figures.

Harry brought the miniature model of himself up so he could give it a good, long look. It looked back at him with a moody, brooding pout. Harry poked the figure in its stomach. "Stop brooding, you! I do other things besides brood, you know!!"

Before Harry could continue berating his miniscule doppelganger, he heard the unmistakable sound of Ron Weasley's voice coming closer to the store room.

"Oy! Bugger off, you! I need to get into the bloody stock room! Harry Potter has left the building! Now sod off before I hex you!!"

Harry moved over and unlocked the door and then dove out of sight, not wanting any of the nosy customers to see him still hanging around the shop's back room. The door swung open and Ron stormed inside, slamming it and locking it behind himself.

"Bloody vultures," Ron grumbled as he started looking around for his best friend, "Oy! Harry, where are you?!"

"Keep your voice down," Harry hissed stepping out from behind a shelf, "If they find out I'm still here, they'll never leave!"

"As long as they buy something, I don't think George cares if they leave or not," Ron replied bitterly, folding his arms across his chest. He was obviously still in a bad mood because of the Chocolate Frog Card thing earlier. "Not that I mind taking a break on the busiest day the shop's had since it re-opened, but are you planning on telling me what you want, Harry?"

Harry blinked a few times, not really sure _what_ it was that he wanted to say. Dealing with Ron could be tricky, because he was just so temperamental. He'd obviously hurt Ron's pride when he expressed his displeasure at being made into a Chocolate Frog Card.

"I wanted to thank you for the birthday present," Harry lied, trying to ease his way into this. Apologizing was never easy between the two of them, as they were never really comfortable expressing their feelings.

"_Sure_ you did," Ron sniped, "Spare me the sarcasm, Harry; you hated it."

"Fine, I admit it," Harry sighed, "But come on, mate, you've seen how ugly I am. Who'd want to see _this_ face staring up at them from a Chocolate Frog Card?"

Ron couldn't help but smirk slightly at this. This was their way; this was how they fixed problems between the two of them, "You're right there, mate, you _are_ pretty hideous."

"Hey! I said _'ugly'_, not _'hideous'_!" Harry snapped, playfully punching Ron in the arm. Ron returned the punch, and the friends wound up play-fighting for several minutes, acting more like adolescent _boys_ than eighteen-year-old _men_.

"Seriously, though, Harry," Ron finally said, once the tom-foolery had stopped, "Just give me back the cards and I'll get you something else for your birthday."

"Why would I do _that_?" Harry asked, shooting Ron a bemused look, "It was a gift! Besides, I may not like the idea of _me_ being on a Chocolate Frog Card, but seeing you and Hermione on one is positively _brilliant_! I wouldn't trade _that_ for anything."

Ron smiled for the first time since he stormed from Harry's bedroom earlier in the day, and Harry couldn't help smiling back, feeling overcome with warmth at the prospect of things being back to normal between him and his best friend.

"Play your cards right, mate," Ron said, slapping Harry on the back, "Maybe Hermione and I will autograph those for you…make 'em _really_ worth something! Now…get the Hell outta here so I can get back to work!"

Harry laughed and moved away, grabbing his wand out of his pocket and Apparating back to the Burrow.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HARRY!!" the voices of the entire Weasley clan rang out together.

It was much later in the day, and Harry's birthday dinner had just been served. The Weasley family and their significant others had once again assembled around the dinner table in the back garden.

"Many happy returns," Hermione said to Harry as she leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Ginny and Ron both shot her looks of mock-disapproval as she took a seat next to Ron.

"Many _happier_ happy returns!" Ginny said tartly, grabbing Harry's face and kissing him soundly on the lips much to the disgruntlement of her five brothers. Mr. Weasley started to cough loudly and Ginny finally broke the kiss, causing Harry to blush. Ginny stuck her tongue out at Hermione, who mimicked the action, and both girls had a good laugh.

"So, Harry," Arthur Weasley began, looking over to the birthday boy as he spooned mashed potatoes onto his plate, "I understand in the Muggle world that the eighteenth birthday is the coming-of-age birthday."

"That's right," Harry nodded, pouring gravy over his roast beef, "I'm now old enough to vote in Muggle elections, drink alcohol in Muggle pubs, and fight in Muggle wars."

"On _that_ depressing note," George said, drawing everyone's attention, "I, myself, have devised a bit of entertainment for our Harry Potter Da--…err…Harry's _birth_day celebration."

Harry, Mrs. Weasley, and Mr. Weasley all shot George dark, scathing looks as he all-but mentioned _Harry Potter Day_…which had officially become a taboo word around the Burrow after Mr. Weasley's talk with Harry in the morning.

"What's the entertainment?" Ron asked as he lifted a forkful of shepherd's pie to his mouth.

"Oh, you'll see," George replied, grinning mischievously at the forkful of food making its way to Ron's gob.

The devilish look on George's face should have told Ron that eating his food was the wrong decision. However, Ron being Ron, he let his stomach do his thinking for him. The sudden yelps of surprise from around the table only reinforced the fact that Ron made a mistake by eating the food.

"What is going on here?" Mr. Weasley exclaimed, moving his hands up to his face.

"GEORGE WEASLEY!!" Mrs. Weasley shouted, flabbergasted that her trickster-of-a-son had once again pulled a prank at the supper table.

"Bloody Hell!!" Ron shouted.

Around the table, instead of an assorted group of Weasleys and their significant others, there now sat George Weasley, Harry Potter, and eleven men and women with strangely rubbery-looking Harry Potter heads where their own heads had originally been.

"What the Hell did you _do_, Weasley?!" Angelina shouted angrily, punching her boyfriend in the arm.

"It's Harry Potter Day," George said by way of explanation as he briskly rubbed his arm, knowing full-well it would be bruised come morning, "What would Harry Potter Day _be_ without a table full of Harry Potters?"

What followed was a hurried explanation from George as his family glared daggers at him for once again wreaking havoc at a family function. Admitting that he had crushed up several of the joke shop's new Potter Pops – eat one and look just like the Boy-Who-Lived; guaranteed to last for a full twenty minutes – into the food when his mother had left the kitchen to oversee the preparations in the garden didn't seem to curb anyone's anger.

Luckily for George, the effects wore off soon enough and everyone was back to normal, although they continued to glare at him as they ate their dinner. Before long it was time for cake and presents, and once George assured everyone that he had _not_ tampered with the cake, everyone…especially Harry…began enjoying themselves again.

While Harry opened his gifts, George began the _actual_ entertainment: a Wildfire Whizz-Bangs display heavy on the Harry-themed fireworks. Quidditch players, snitches, stag Patronuses, and a huge Harry Potter face composed entirely of fireworks lit up the night sky above the Burrow.

All-in-all, in Harry's opinion, it was the absolute _best_ way to top off his birthday. It was approaching midnight when the party broke up, and everyone started to Floo and Apparate home. In short order, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, and Harry were the only ones left at the Burrow.

As her parents made their way upstairs, Ginny took Harry's hand and led him back out into the garden, "Come on, Harry, there's something I want to show you!"

"What's that, Gin?" Harry looked perplexed. It was awfully late to be wandering around outside. She didn't answer; instead she just smiled and continued to lead him away from the Burrow towards a grove of willow trees. "Gin?"

"Shh! I want to give you your present," she told him as they entered the grove of trees.

"You already did," he reminded her, "You gave me that really nice shirt."

Ginny rolled her eyes and continued to drag him further into the trees; already the view of the Burrow was blocked by the low-hanging willow branches, "Harry, I bought you that shirt because you have _hideous_ taste in clothes. Really, the shirt was more for _me_ so I wouldn't be embarrassed to be seen with you!"

"Hey!" he shot her a dirty look, "My taste isn't _'hideous'_!" What was it with these Weasleys using the word _hideous_ to describe him?

Ginny patted him comfortingly on the hand, "Of course not," she said, patronizing him, "If you're really okay with just the shirt for your _birthday_..."

"Well, I didn't say _that_…"

"Consider _this_ your Harry Potter Day present."

"Hey…!" Harry had started to protest. He was going to gripe about the whole Harry Potter Day thing once again until he noticed that a makeshift bed of blankets and pillows was laid out underneath one of the willow trees. "Ginny, what…?"

"I think guys who have their own national holidays are sexy," Ginny said, winking at him and causing him to blush, "And since Mum won't let us share a bed 'under her roof'…I made us a bed out here…where there _is_ no roof."

"Ginny…"

"Shut up," she told him standing up on her tiptoes and kissing him soundly, "And enjoy your present."

"Whatever you say, Miss Weasley," he replied with a grin.

"Happy Harry Potter Day, Mr. Potter!"

* * *

**Author's End Notes:** Okay, so there it was. Was it as bad as I think? I didn't seem SO bad as I re-read it, but it wasn't exactly a tour-de-force. I'd have skipped over Harry's birthday ENTIRELY, except for the fact that JKR always featured it in her books, and I wanted to maintain that in my story. My main reason for this chapter was the establishment of Harry Potter Day (the guy saved the world, so he deserves a holiday) and the establishment of the Golden Trio as Chocolate Frog Cards (JKR herself said they eventually got their own cards) and as action figures (if Viktor SODDING Krum gets one, why not THEM?). I didn't really enjoy writing this chapter that much, but I think that was more due to my remaining malaise left over from dealing with my family than anything else.

As for the ending of this chapter, I'll leave it up to your imagination as to whether or not Ginny and Harry had sex.

Did you like it? Did you hate it? Fee free to let me know in a review.

Next chapter, Chapter 40, will be the FINAL CHAPTER of _**AFTERMATH**_! I'm actually looking forward to wrapping this story up. I've already started on the chapter, and I'll have it up before Christmas. Speaking of Christmas...I intend to write a Christmas story as well, so be on the lookout for that as well as any other stories I write...and if you want, check out my blog on LiveJournal. There's a link on my profile page.

'Hawk


	40. Trouble in Paradise

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:** Okay, what we have here is your standard-issue GOOD NEWS/BAD NEWS situation. The Good News is that I'm posting an update tonight, just as I scheduled to do. The Bad News is that I didn't manage to finish Chapter 40 like I planned on doing. If that confuses anyone, please allow me to speak on this and clear things up for you.

I planned on making Chapter 40 by far the LONGEST chapter in the entire **_AFTERMATH_** series, planning for it to come in somewhere around 15,000 words. I planned for it to be the LAST chapter in the entire _**AFTERMATH**_ series. I PLANNED on having it all done and out of the way and posted this weekend...but as they say, the best laid plans of mice and men oft times go awry, and then you're forced to kill your freakishly large, inhumanly strong, idiot-manchild pal, Lenny, before the angry mob can show up and tear him to pieces for accidentally killing the boss's wife. (And if anyone needs that explained to them, please, please, PLEASE go out and buy some books that don't feature teenage wizards or vampires. Seriously.)

So, here's the deal, since the original format of Ch. 40 was long enough to be split up into 3 separate chapters, that's exactly what I'm going to do. I'm splitting it into 3 chapters, so instead of ending on the nice, round Ch. 40 like I wanted to, I'll be ending it on Ch. 42. What this means is, all those reviewers who were upset that **_AFTERMATH_** was ending get a short reprieve while I finish writing what will be the next chapter (the LAST chapter is already written...see, I finished the beginning of Ch. 40 and the END of Ch. 40, I just didn't finish the MIDDLE of Ch. 40...which is why you get three chapters instead of one).

As usual, I'm not happy with this chapter. I guess the more I go on with this story, the less happy I am with the results, which is really just one of the many reasons I'll be happy when I finish this finally and put it to bed. It's a Ron/Hermione chapter, which is a good thing, I just don't think it's particularly well-written, which is a bad thing.

I don't PLAN on making you guys wait another two weeks for the next chapter; as soon as I finish it, I will post it, and the final chapter as well. I'd like to have it done by Christmas, but consider how hectic the week leading up to Christmas can be, it might not happen. Keep your fingers crossed, though. Considering that I fully expect to be emotionally dead inside once Christmas is over, I really, really, really, REALLY want this done before then.

As usual, it's now time for a shout-out for my reviewers: **Edinburgh Love**, **Ann Malfoy**, **Cantletharrygo**, **CutewithAcapital-Q**, **fatyellowrat**, **Avanell**, **Dizzy0305**, **katie1985**, **Elytha**, **Trude**, **mugglemamma**, **emmy1124**, **-HPfan**, **Moony3005**, **IsI Wisi**, **Lady Anja**, **embergrl9010**, **the written princess**, **MissFinnegan**, **Tiffany M**, **kareem33**, **randomguy1517**, **Shlesha**, **ronniemione**,** sarah-keyko**, **not for lack of trying**, **Emma04**, **Jacob's-One-Girl**, **Ravenhaired2**, **Nosta82**, **Aly-Cat 101**, **EnglishGirlVerity**,** marauders rox**, **Lane Joey**, **allenterrill**, **skippyboo**, **Larelles**, **kellymc1**, **xxafterglowxx**, **screamxheart**, **zsdvnn**, **Foxy-Steph**, **Kirsty-Luan**, **marvelous-fanwriter**, **hctb**, **ronlover997**, **HeatherRiddle**, **LadyInWriting**, **beautifulshamrock**, **shadowmonger**, **lemondrop43**, **watched 2 much tv**, **LaRay93**, **CwamBeta**, **Chick Flicks- Rock 'N' Roll**, **james87**, **griffyndorgirl**, **iriepotter**, **Trebius**, **Puff2836**, **FinlandGirl**, **Kate7**,** oroshi**, **allii**, **TanaR**, **Skippy Agogo**, **Pattox0111**, **Willing to Learn**, and** bga1974 **are all awesomely AWESOME!!!! You guys have made this whole thing enjoyable.

**Disclaimer:** J.K.R's, not mine. You dig?

* * *

**_AFTERMATH_**

**Chapter 40 -- Trouble in Paradise**

"EEEEEEEEEE!!!!"

The high-pitched shriek piercing the quiet morning air of the Weasley Brothers' flat caused Ron Weasley to stir in his deep slumber, but it was the sudden attack, being jumped on by the frizzy-haired brunette that had been sharing his bed until a short while ago, that woke him completely.

"Bloody Hell, 'Mione…!" he groaned, shifting his legs to protect his delicate man-parts from his bouncing girlfriend.

"Get up, get up, get up!!!" Hermione squealed, continuing to bounce up and down on the bed, shaking Ron to-and-fro to get him to wake up.

"I'm up! I'm up!!" Ron bellowed, sitting up and grabbing her so she'd stop bouncing, "What is so bloody urgent that you had to wake me like this?!""

"Don't curse, Ron," Hermione said with a smile as she threw her arms around Ron's neck and kissed him passionately. He sat, stunned for a moment or two, but quickly collected himself and began to return the kiss with equal vigor. When they finally came up for air, Ron couldn't help the lopsided grin that was plastered on his face.

"Now _that_ is a good reason for a bloke to get up in the morning," he said running his hands down her back. Hermione was wearing one of his tee-shirts, and he quickly reached down to try and get it off her, "Take this thing off so we can pick up where we left off last night!"

Hermione slapped his hand playfully and backed away, grinning like mad. He frowned when she didn't show any sign of getting undressed, and began moving towards her, throwing the covers off in order to chase after her, completely starkers.

Hermione blushed at the sight of Ron's naked body. They'd been intimate for almost two months now, but seeing him moving around, unabashedly naked and wanting her, still embarrassed her a bit. She picked his boxer shorts off the floor and tossed them at him, hitting Ron in the face, "Put some clothes on, Ron," she giggled, moving as far away from him as she could, knowing if he got hold of her, she wouldn't be able to resist him for long, "There's something more important I want to show you."

"You didn't seem to think there was _anything_ more important last night," Ron quipped, a mock-scowl on his face as he tugged on his plaid boxers. Hermione stuck out her tongue at him and he laughed along with her. "Okay, 'Mione, what is it?"

"Hogwarts letters came today!" Hermione exclaimed, showing him the parchment in her hand, "Guess who's going to be Head Girl!!"

Ron looked at her pensively; he already knew the answer, but he wanted to take the mickey out of her a bit first, "Hmm…Eloise Midgen?"

"What…?" Hermione looked stunned, "Ron, Eloise Midgen graduated!"

"Oh…err…Demelza Robins?" Ron was trying to hide his smirk. He could see how flustered Hermione was getting and he couldn't help but think how bloody cute she looked when she was in such a state.

"RON!!" Hermione exclaimed, stomping her foot for emphasis.

Ron couldn't help himself anymore and began chuckling at his girlfriend's state of frustration, "Well, 'Mione, unless McGonagall has gone completely _barmy_ in her old age…"

"Ron!! It's _Professor_ McGonagall," Hermione said in a huff, "And she's not _that_ old!"

Ron rolled his eyes. Hermione's respect for and loyalty to Professor McGonagall was unrivaled. It wasn't a secret that she was Hermione's favorite teacher, and it wasn't inconceivable that Hermione was McGonagall's favorite student.

"My _point_, Hermione," Ron said, putting his arms around her, "Is that she'd have to be completely mental to choose anyone but _you_ to be Head Girl."

Hermione smiled brightly and blushed as Ron leaned in and planted a loving kiss on the tip of her nose. Anytime she received a compliment from Ron, she couldn't help feeling like she was floating on a cloud. Coupling his compliment with the fact that she was _indeed_ Head Girl had Hermione not only floating on a cloud, but floating on a cloud surrounded by chorus of singing angels.

"We need to celebrate you being named Head Girl," he said, beaming with pride at his brilliant girlfriend, "I'm sure Mum will burst her buttons when she finds out!"

"I'm sure my parents will be ecstatic when they find out, as well," she replied, putting her arms around his neck and stepping on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his lips, "But we can tell them later. Right now, I think we should celebrate by ourselves."

"What did you have in mind?" Ron asked, quirking an eyebrow at her. In response, Hermione waggled her eyebrows suggestively at him and motioned with her head towards the empty bed. Ron grinned the widest grin Hermione had ever seen on his face as he picked her up and carried her over to the bed, "Have I told you lately how bloody BRILLIANT you are?!"

"Yes, but I never get tired of hearing it!" Hermione giggled as she jumped onto the bed and pulled him down on top of her.

Two hours later, Ron and Hermione were making their way through Diagon Alley to pick up Hermione's supplies for the coming school year.

"It's like First Year all over again," Hermione said excitedly, sounding every bit the giddy schoolgirl, "I need new robes, a new cauldron, new potions equipment, new…_everything_!"

Ron chuckled and pulled her closer, hugging her to his side and placing a kiss on the side of her head. She turned and smiled at him brightly, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the shops.

"We should get new wands!" she said excitedly as they approached Ollivander's, "At the very least, we should stop in and see how Mr. Ollivander's doing."

"Whatever you say, Head Girl," Ron replied with a sideways grin. Hermione smiled back, enjoying the way that title sounded when directed at her. She moved quickly towards the shop, looking forward to getting a new wand.

"I don't want to go back to Hogwarts using Bellatrix LeStrange's wand," Hermione said almost to herself as they walked into the wand shop.

Ron and Hermione had both lost their original wands during the past year's hunt for the Horcruxes. Their wands had been confiscated when they were captured by Voldemort's forces and taken to Malfoy Manor and were never recovered.

Ever since, they'd been using wands captured during their escape from the Manor. Hermione was using the wand taken from Bellatrix LeStrange, and Ron using the one that had once belonged to Peter Pettigrew. Now seemed like the perfect opportunity for Ron and Hermione to get new ones.

They entered the shop, a tiny bell ringing somewhere in the depths of the shop signaled their arrival, and they heard someone moving around in the back of the shop. Moments later, Ollivander came shuffling out of the back.

"Ah…Miss Granger, Mister Weasley…I wondered when I might be seeing the two of you again," he said, smiling warmly at them, "I must say that I _am_ pleased to find the two of you in my shop once more."

"How've you been, Mr. Ollivander?" Hermione asked, noticing that the old wand-maker now walked with a cane.

"Better than when we last met, dear child," he replied, "I was fortunate that you and your friends arrived when you did. I've no idea how much longer I would have lasted…"

"Err…we've come for new wands," Ron said, awkwardly changing the subject. The events that took place at Malfoy Manor and immediately following their escape were best left in the past, as far as Ron was concerned. He knew, too, that Hermione wouldn't enjoy reliving the horrors that occurred during their imprisonment…and neither one needed to wallow in the guilt of Dobby having died while saving them.

"Of course," Ollivander responded, nodding at Ron. There was something in the old man's eyes that told Ron that he understood perfectly what Ron was thinking, "It's been some time since either of you bought your first wands…willow with unicorn tail hair, fourteen inches I believe, Mr. Weasley…and vine wood with dragon heartstring, yes Miss Granger?"

Ron and Hermione nodded, causing the old wand-maker to smile, "Now then, let's get some measurements, and we'll see about getting your new wands."

Forty-five minutes later, Ron and Hermione left Ollivander's shop, hand-in-hand, complete with two new wands.

"That wasn't too bad, y'know," Ron said, twirling his new wand in his free hand, "Back in the summer before Third Year, when Mum and Dad finally bought me my _own_ wand, it took Ollivander almost as long to find a wand just for me. This time he did us both in the same amount of time."

"When I got _my_ wand before our First Year," Hermione said, looking over at him with a smile born of nostalgia, "It took Mr. Ollivander nearly two hours to get me my wand. I think I may've frustrated him a bit back then…I wanted to try out every single wand."

Ron started laughing at the image of eleven-year-old Hermione systematically going through Ollivander's entire stock until she found the perfect wand for her. "How far'd you get?"

"Oh, I don't know exactly," she replied, shrugging, "At least two hundred before my parents insisted I take the one he'd been trying to give me all along."

"Even at eleven you were such a stubborn little bossy-boots," Ron laughed, shaking his head.

"I was _not_!" Hermione argued, "I was just being _thorough_. It was my first time in the magical world, Ronald; I wanted to make absolutely sure I got the wand that was right for me."

"'Mione…Ollivander has been doing his job for the last two-thousand years!" Ron countered, smiling broadly at her, "The man knows his wands. Only _you_ would think, at eleven-years-old, that you knew better than Ollivander."

"Oh, _please_, Ronald," Hermione said, losing her patience a bit. She loved him, but when he made jokes at her expense, it still pissed her off, "Only _you_ would think that Mr. Ollivander has been in business for two-thousand years!"

"What? It says so right on his storefront," Ron said, thrown by the sudden subject change. He came to a halt and pointed back the way they came, "_'Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 B.C.'_; I may not know all the Muggle maths you know, but I _can _add!"

"Ron…you don't _really_ think _one man_ has been selling wands _that long_, do you?" Hermione scoffed, taking on an air of superiority like she often did during their arguments at Hogwarts, "I mean, that's just…I mean…he couldn't, could he?"

"Couldn't he?" Ron replied, crossing his arms and cocking an eyebrow at her.

"I…come on!" she said harshly, grabbing his wrist and dragging him off.

"Where're we going?" he asked in a slightly whiney voice.

"Flourish and Blotts," she replied, not bothering to look at him, "I have to pick up my schoolbooks, and while we're there, I'm going to find a book on the history of wand-making in Britain and prove to you that I'm right!"

Ron rolled his eyes and followed dutifully along, although the entire time he couldn't help thinking how this may very well be the stupidest row they'd ever gotten into.

"I can't believe there's nothing in here about it!" Hermione shouted, slamming the book shut. She had purchased the biggest book she could find on wand-making, _Wandlore in the British Isles: A Practical History of Wand-Making_, and had spent the last hour searching through it for something to prove her point.

Ron sat beside her, bored out-of-his-mind. He'd taken to levitating small bits of rubbish off the ground with his wand and making them chase each other while Hermione poured through the massive tome.

"'Mione…" Ron groaned, "I don't even _care_ anymore…please let it _go_! I'll even admit that you're right if we can just _go_ already!! This is my day off and I don't want to spend all day in Diagon Alley shopping for school supplies!"

"Well, I'm sorry if this is boring for you, Ronald," Hermione huffed, slamming the book shut, obviously still a bit irked at him, "Perhaps it would be more enjoyable for you if we were shopping for _your own_ supplies."

"I doubt it," he grumbled, "Besides, Hermione, we've been through this…I'm not going back."

"But Ron…" It was now Hermione's turn to sound all whiney, "If you went back, I bet you'd be made House Quidditch Captain…after all, you'd have seniority. Who knows, you might even get Head Boy!"

For a moment, Ron was reminded of First Year when he viewed the Mirror of Erised and saw himself as Head Boy and Quidditch Captain winning the Quidditch Cup. The temptation to embrace that fantasy and make it a reality was great, but something deep down told him that if he'd take a second look in the Mirror, his deepest desire would be different now.

"'Mione, come on…stop," he said, trying to be firm, but at the same time not wanting to sound cruel, "George needs me, you know that."

Hermione sighed. She knew she wouldn't win this argument. Ron's dedication to his family was rivaled only by his dedication to her and Harry. Telling him that she needed him, too, would only put Ron in a situation where he had to choose between his brother and his girlfriend, and she knew that, as much as she might want to, making him choose between her and George wasn't even close to being the right thing to do.

"I'm going to miss you, though," she said sadly.

"I know…and I'll miss you, too," he replied, taking her hand, "But between Head Girl duties and revising for N.E.W.T.s, you probably won't even have _time_ to miss me!"

Hermione shrugged and pouted, prompting Ron to put his arms around her and take her into a warm, soothing hug. Several moments of silence passed before Ron saw fit to speak again.

"C'mon, 'Mione, you still need to get new robes…" he said softly, pulling her along towards Madame Malkin's.

The prospect of getting the rest of her school supplies brought Hermione out of her pout, and she suddenly remembered something almost as important to her as getting her school shopping done.

"You know, Ron, while we're here, we really should shop for some birthday presents," she suggested, looking around as if to get an idea of where they should shop for gifts.

"'Mione..." Ron groaned, "Your birthday isn't until the middle of next _month_!"

"Not for me, you prat," she laughed, her spirits lifted by the knowledge that, at the very least, Ron remembered when _her_ birthday was, "You _do_ realize that Percy and Ginny _both_ have birthdays this month…"

"Now I do," he muttered under his breath, "So, what do you reckon I should get them?"

"Well," Hermione began, "I was thinking…"

"Of course you were," Ron chided playfully, "When _aren't_ you thinking?"

"…" Hermione didn't reply, but she _did_ glare at him.

"Err…continue…" he prompted, sheepishly.

"I was _thinking_," she continued, still shooting a dirty look at him, "That _we_ could go in on a present _together_. Muggle couples do it all the time."

Ron was suddenly reminded of how, since they got together, gifts from Bill and Fleur came from the two of them together. And presents from his parents were almost always from the both of them for as long as he could remember. He didn't know why he hadn't thought of it before, now that he was part of a "couple". Surely, together, he and Hermione could've gotten Harry a _much _better birthday present than Chocolate Frog Cards and a book (_1001 Secrets of the Auror Corps and Why They Don't Want You to Know Them_ -- from Hermione, of course).

"Sounds like a brilliant idea to me," Ron agreed, smiling as he thought of an even _better_ reason to buy gifts as a couple. Buying gifts as a couple meant that Hermione could be the one to go through the hassle of _shopping_ for the gift while all he would have to do is pay his half and then write his name on the gift once she'd wrapped it, "I'll just head over to Quality Quidditch Supplies while you pick up their gifts."

"Nice try, Weasley!" Hermione laughed, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards a shop that sold miscellaneous wizarding products for all occasions, "If we're going to _give_ the gift together, we're going to _shop_ for the gift together!"

Ron rolled his eyes but no amount of complaining could save him from his fate. It would be several more hours before Ron would find himself liberated from Hermione's back-to-school shopping trip.

"Your parents must be _so_ proud of you, dear," Molly Weasley said the following day at the Burrow. Sunday brunch would be served shortly, and Ron and Hermione were in the kitchen helping Mrs. Weasley with the food.

"Yes, they were," Hermione nodded as she sliced apples for a tart Mrs. Weasley was making, "They want to take me out to dinner this week to celebrate."

"That's wonderful, dear," Molly said, giving the girl a motherly smile. She then cast a glance at Ron where he sat at the table peeling and cubing potatoes, "It's a shame there won't be another Head _Boy_ in _this_ family."

"Mum…!" Ron whinged, rolling his eyes and nearly nicking his finger on the knife he was using, "We've been _through_ this!"

"A mother can always _dream_, Ronald," Mrs. Weasley said sternly.

"My parents wanted _you_ to come to dinner, too, Ron," Hermione said, trying to change the subject slightly and bail him out…even though she agreed with his mother, "We'll be going to a very nice restaurant in London."

"A Muggle restaurant?" Ron replied, looking a bit nervous. He'd never been out into the Muggle world very much, and he'd certainly never eaten at a fancy Muggle restaurant before.

"My parents _are_ Muggles, Ron," Hermione said, not that he needed reminding, "So, yes, we will be going to a Muggle restaurant…a _nice_ Muggle restaurant, so I expect you to be on your best behavior."

"You know when we met on the Hogwarts Express all those years ago," Ron said, sarcastically, "I never would have guessed I had just met my _second_ mother! Although, maybe I should have, since you saw fit to point out the dirt on my nose."

"If you didn't need constant mothering, Ronald," Hermione said with equal sarcasm, "I wouldn't bother."

"You know," Mrs. Weasley said with a wistful sort of smile, "They say that a boy will often fall in love with a girl who reminds him of his mother."

Ron and Hermione both blushed at this. It was true that Hermione had a lot of the same qualities as Molly Weasley. If she didn't, Ron doubted that she would have been able to put up with him for all these years. His mother was right, but the last thing Ron wanted to do was equate Hermione with his mother…especially now that their relationship had progressed into the bedroom.

"So ickle Ronnie is dating his own Mummy?" George quipped mischievously from the kitchen doorway, having come in search of a snack only to overhear the conversation, "That's pretty disgusting, considering the way you two were going at it yesterday after Hermione's Hogwarts letter arrived."

"GEORGE!!!" Ron and Hermione yelled at the same time, both of them shooting him dark, evil looks.

"Honestly, Hermione," George went on, ignoring the looks and the obvious distress caused by his comments, "You'd think someone as forthright and upstanding as a Hogwarts Head Girl would have better things to do on the weekend than get together with my idiot brother for a good sha--…"

_"Silencio!"_

George's mouth continued to open and close for several seconds before he realized no sound was coming out. He, along with Ron and Hermione looked completely stunned at Molly Weasley where she stood, wand out, glaring angrily at George.

"That will be enough out of you today, George!" she said harshly, "I don't want to _hear_ whatever slanderous comments you were about to embarrass dear, sweet Hermione with. Today we're going to have a nice, _civilized_ family gathering if I have to _Stupefy_ the lot of you! No pranks, no jokes, no inappropriate comments, no tampering with the food, and no making anyone's private parts disappear! Do I make myself _clear_ George Weasley?!"

The look on his mother's face and the fact that he was still mute told George that his mother was quite serious. He nodded his head vigorously, indicating that she'd made herself _crystal _clear.

"Good," Molly said, nodding for emphasis. She turned back to the food she was preparing on the stove, "Harry and Ginny are setting up the table and chairs in the garden…please go set the table, George," Mrs. Weasley pointed at a stack of plates piled next to glasses and silverware.

Without a word -- as he was still Silenced -- George did as he was told. He took the tableware out into the garden to set the table, but not before shooting Ron and Hermione each a rather meaningful look. There was no doubt that George had more embarrassing tricks up his sleeves in store for the two lovebirds.

Silence enveloped the room for a few moments as Ron and Hermione continued to share stunned looks with each other while Mrs. Weasley continued to tend to her cooking. It was Molly who finally broke the silence, although Ron and Hermione wound up wishing it had remained quiet.

"You _are_ of course behaving like a _gentleman _towards Hermione, aren't you Ronald?"

"Err…erm…of course, Mum," Ron stammered, casting a nervous look at Hermione.

"You have nothing to worry about, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said, sounding more confident than she actually felt. One of them had to sound confident, though, since Ron looked like he was about to faint, "Ron treats me very well. You did an excellent job raising him."

"That's good to know," Mrs. Weasley replied, smiling at Hermione before giving Ron a look that said she knew what was going on but she really didn't _want_ to know, "You'll understand when you have children, Hermione. You worry how they're going to turn out."

Hermione blushed heavily at the thought of children she might one day have. She looked over at Ron and his face was once again pale and he looked faint. Sure, they'd talked about one day having children, but neither wanted to discuss the subject with Ron's mother over Sunday brunch. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as the back door opened and Ginny and Harry walked in.

"Is anyone else aware that George can't talk?" Harry asked, looking around the kitchen at the three people assembled there.

"Not that it's a bad thing," Ginny said with a smile.

"That was my doing, dear," Molly admitted, turning away from the bubbling pots on the stove, "I'll remove the spell shortly, once I'm sure he's learned his lesson."

"Let me guess," Harry began, taking in the uncomfortable looks on Ron and Hermione's faces, "He was making fun of our little Head Girl, here…again."

"Yes, he was," Molly nodded, turning back to the food, "Perhaps being Silenced will teach him that being named Head Girl is _not_ something to be teased about. It's an admirable accomplishment and Hermione should be proud…and we should be proud _of_ her."

"Well, I made Quidditch Captain," Ginny said, shooting a dirty look to the back of her mother's head. Ginny didn't make Prefect back in her Fifth Year, and that effectively took her out of the running for Head Girl. She tried not to be jealous of Hermione (especially since the twins had lavished her with gifts from their shop for "following in their 'un-Prefectly footsteps'"), but watching her mother coo over Hermione and her Head Girl badge made it tough.

"Of course you did, Ginny-dear," Mrs. Weasley said, absentmindedly. Molly wasn't a big Quidditch fan like the Weasley men, so she was less impressed with her daughter's accomplishment.

"Only because you're the senior member of the team," Ron said, teasing his sister, "At least _I_ was a Prefect."

Hermione and Ginny both turned towards Ron and opened their mouths about to make a comment at him when Mrs. Weasley beat them to the punch.

"And you _might_ have been _Head Boy_, Ronald!" Mrs. Weasley said, turning about quickly with a wooden cooking spoon in her hand, pointing it at Ron menacingly, "As _well_ as Quidditch Captain! That's something none of your _brothers_ had managed to do!"

Ron's face darkened and he glowered at his mother. He would always be living in the shadow of his brothers, and he felt as if there was nothing he could do that would make him good enough in his mother's eyes. Only doing the near-impossible…being Head Boy – like Bill and Percy – _and_ Quidditch Captain – like Charlie – would set him apart.

He looked to Hermione for support, but the look on her face said she agreed with his Mum. He looked to Ginny, but she merely glared at him, no doubt angry over his comments about _why_ she got Quidditch Captain. And Harry…Harry was busy looking at the walls, the ceiling, anything to avoid looking at any_one_ and get drawn into something he wanted no parts of.

Letting his temper make his decisions for him, Ron jabbed the knife he was holding into the potato he had last been peeling and surged to his feet. "None of my _brothers_ made it onto a Chocolate Frog Card!"

It may have sounded like an asinine argument, but it was the best retort he could come up with before storming off out of the room.

"I'd better go deal with Ron," Hermione sighed, rolling her eyes as she left the kitchen.

"Of course, dear," Molly replied, turning back to her cooking, "Ginny, Harry, could you pick up where they left off please? If we're going to have potato salad and apple tarts at brunch, the potatoes need to finish getting peeled and cubed, and the apples need to finish being sliced."

"Sure Mrs. Weasley," Harry nodded, moving dutifully over to the spot Ron had abandoned and resumed the peeling of the potatoes, wondering all the while why it was done the Muggle way instead of with magic. Of course, since Harry didn't know a spell for peeling and cubing potatoes, he, too, did it the Muggle way.

Ginny mumbled something under her breath before taking up where Hermione left off. The fiery little redhead began angrily slicing the apples, imagining them to be her idiot brother the entire time.

It took Hermione a few minutes, but she finally found Ron. He was sulking up in the attic. The ghoul seemed a bit put-out by the company, and kept making a racket…banging on pipes, throwing boxes around, and dropping on the floor whatever he could find that was heavy enough to make a loud noise.

"Ron…" Hermione called as she reached her redheaded lover, "You're being a bit childish. You're mother didn't _mean_ anything…she just wants what's _best_ for you. We _both_ do."

Ron turned to look at her, his face screwed up in a sour grimace, "Hermione, I love you…but I really don't need you to _mother_ me right now! What I need is for you to be my _girlfriend_; to accept me for _me_, and to support the decisions I make…whether you agree with them or not!"

"…" Hermione felt like _she_ had been hit with the _Silencio Charm_ instead of George. Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.

"That's what I thought," Ron sighed, shaking his head as he got up to leave the attic, "I'm going for a walk. Let Mum know I'll be back in time for brunch."

As Ron brushed past her and made his way down the steps, Hermione felt a niggling little part of her brain castigating her for not saying something supportive before he left. The problem was Hermione Granger felt that _she_ was right – Ron _should_ go back to school – and Hermione Granger's pride would not let her give in when she felt she was right. Even if in her heart, she knew she was wrong.

Brunch at the Weasleys that Sunday was an unusually subdued meal for once. Ginny wasn't talking to Ron, and Ron was pointedly not talking to Ginny, Hermione, or George. George, despite having the Silencing charm removed, remained relatively quiet during the meal, causing almost everyone to wonder what it was that he was up to.

Needless to say, everyone…except for Mrs. Weasley…was surprised when brunch ended and nothing prankish, jokey, or Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes-oriented had occurred. When the meal ended, Ron…still sulking…was the first to leave, _without_ waiting for Hermione.

"Oy! Ronnie!" George called out as he entered the Weasley Brothers' flat an hour after the end of brunch; he had just made his way home from the Burrow and thought he ought to check up on his little brother.

George made his way down the hall to Ron's bedroom and banged on the door, "You in there, Ron?"

"Sod off, George…"

George smirked. The half-hearted reply was very reminiscent to a reply he'd gotten several weeks ago upon banging on the bathroom door after hearing some strange sounds coming from beyond the door. Of course, this time, he wasn't being told to sod off by Hermione. It was definitely Ron, and he sounded like he was in a fair snit.

Ignoring his brother's suggestion, George opened the door and let himself into Ron's room. His little brother was lying on his bed staring up at the ceiling. He didn't bother to look at his brother as he entered the room.

"Go away, George," Ron said once again, draping an arm across his eyes hoping George would take the hint that he didn't want to see anyone right now.

"Ronnie, you're my brother," George said, leaning against the doorjamb, folding his arms across his chest, "And Mum always said I _have_ to love you…"

"Ha-ha…" Ron said sarcastically, still not looking at him.

"But you're a right idiotic fuck-monkey, you know that?"

Ron sat up and looked at George when he said that. His brother had never called him that. In fact, he'd never heard anyone call anybody that, so he was caught off-guard by the turn of phrase, "What…?!"

"You heard me," George said, giving him a sardonic smirk, "I figure you've been called 'prat' and 'git' so much that those words have lost all meaning for you. We needed a new word to describe what a monumental arse-hat you were today."

"Hark who's talking!" Ron snapped, "You've got to take every opportunity to bring up me and Hermione shagging in front of Mum!"

"Oh come on now, Ronnie, I need to get _some_ enjoyment out of you and your ickle girlfriend going at it like lemmings every weekend," George replied with a smirk, "Maybe if you two weren't so _loud_, I'd be less inclined to give you grief."

Ron glared at his brother. He was in such a bad mood that dealing with George was the last thing he wanted to do. "Piss off, George!"

"See…I _get_ why you're mad at _me_, Ronnie," George said, moving over and shoving a pile of dirty clothes off Ron's desk chair so he could sit, "Now, how about you make me understand what Hermione did to deserve the cold shoulder you were giving her today."

"How about you go to Hell," Ron growled, getting up to leave the room.

"You've got four weeks left with the girl before she leaves for the next three-and-a-half _months_," George reminded him, talking to Ron's retreating back, "Is this really how you want to spend the remainder of your time with her?"

"Since when do _you_ give me dating advice?!" Ron snapped turning on his brother, "You've spent most of your life doing whatever you can to make _my_ _life_ miserable!"

"You do have a fair point there," George said with a smile, "So, look at this from my point-of-view, Ronnie…it's much more fun to take the mickey out of you when you're _happy_ than it is when you're all hacked off. So, do this for _me_!"

"For…for _you_?!" Ron sputtered, not believing his brother's words.

George sat on the chair, smiling up at Ron. The youngest Weasley male was so flustered and frustrated by his brother that he finally just left the room without another word. When he heard the front door slam, George got up and started to leave the room.

"I wonder if I should start going easier on him…" George pondered, talking to himself as he walked across the hall into his own bedroom. He stopped and seemed to consider his own suggestion before breaking out in an ear-to-ear grin, "Naaaahhhh!!"

-- End Chapter 40 --

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**Author's End Notes: **So, I didn't like it, but I'm hoping you guys did. I'm writing this for YOU after all.

I'm doing my best to get the next chapter finished, but if it's not done in time, let me just wish everyone a MERRY CHRISTMAS and a HAPPY NEW YEAR!!


	41. All Apologies

**Author's Notes:** Three stories in one week; if I'm not careful, the lot of you are going to get spoiled!!! (Any of you confused as to what I mean by three stories, go ahead and check out **"Christmas Remembrances"** and **"A New Year's Toast"**. They're all **_AFTERMATH_** compliant, so enjoy them!)

It seems fitting to me, somehow, that I've got the Queen/David Bowie classic "Under Pressure" blaring through my laptop's speakers as I post this, as I always feel under pressure to give you folks something worth reading every two weeks...and if anyone's checking their calendar, it's been two weeks since my last update of this story. And now that this, the middle of what would have been a VERY long Chapter 40, I find myself on the horns of a dilemma. See...the end, the FINAL CHAPTER is finished. It's been done since before I posted Chapter 40 two weeks ago. The dilemma? Do I post it now, or do I post it later? I'm sure I'll hear from the very vocal reviewers of mine as to what they'd prefer...but no matter what, I think I'll wait the perfunctory two weeks and post it THEN.

Why make you wait?! Simple. Waiting two weeks before I post the FINAL CHAPTER means I'll have two solid weeks in which I can work on other stuff, and maybe...just maybe...get some other stories finished so I'll some other stuff to entertain you with for a little while longer. I'd at least like to get a couple of one-shots done in the meantime. I've got so many ideas floating around my head that I need to get them down on paper (even if said paper is actually a word processor file on my computer) before my head explodes!!

Trust me, BlackHawk's head exploding is not good for ANYBODY.

The original concept of this chapter was going to be Ron and the Grangers interacting, both right after Ron leaves his flat at the end of Chapter 40 and at a fancy Muggle restaurant in London. I changed the concept midway through. I took out the restaurant scene in favor of a scene between Ron and his mother. HOWEVER, fans of the Grangers (which would be me...I LOVE putting Ron and John Granger together) should not despair; that restaurant scene will be one of many one-shots I plan on writing that feature the Grangers.

We're coming down to the wire with **_AFTERMATH_**, people, and I can't help but feel bittersweet about it. Wait...can people FEEL bittersweet?! In any event, it's a bittersweet feeling! Yeah, that'll work. I'm DYING to put the story to rest; I've been looking forward to finishing it ever since I started the first chapter almost a year ago (I started writing in March/April of 2008). At the same time, however, I'm going to miss this story and all the wonderful interaction I've had with other Harry Potter fans because of it. Hopefully, most of you will follow me to the other stories I write, but any of you who don't will be missed.

Listen to me...I'm talking like THIS is the FINAL CHAPTER. Time to stop putting the cart before the horse, and to get back to the matter at hand. Here is Chapter 41...enjoy it!!

As usual, it's now time for a shout-out for my reviewers: **Edinburgh Love**, **Ann Malfoy**, **Cantletharrygo**, **CutewithAcapital-Q**, **fatyellowrat**, **Avanell**, **Dizzy0305**, **katie1985**, **Elytha**, **Trude**, **mugglemamma**, **emmy1124**, **EmmaJane-HPfan**, **Moony3005**, **IsI Wisi**, **Lady Anja**, **embergrl9010**, **the written princess**, **MissFinnegan**, **Tiffany M**, **kareem33**, **randomguy1517**, **Shlesha**, **ronniemione**,** sarah-keyko**, **not for lack of trying**, **Emma04**, **Jacob's-One-Girl**, **Ravenhaired2**, **Nosta82**, **Aly-Cat 101**, **EnglishGirlVerity**,** marauders rox**, **Lane Joey**, **allenterrill**, **skippyboo**, **Larelles**, **kellymc1**, **xxafterglowxx**, **screamxheart**, **zsdvnn**, **Foxy-Steph**, **Kirsty-Luan**, **marvelous-fanwriter**, **hctb**, **ronlover997**, **HeatherRiddle**, **LadyInWriting**, **beautifulshamrock**, **shadowmonger**, **lemondrop43**, **watched 2 much tv**, **LaRay93**, **CwamBeta**, **Chick Flicks- Rock 'N' Roll**, **james87**, **griffyndorgirl**, **iriepotter**, **Trebius**, **Puff2836**, **FinlandGirl**, **Kate7**,** oroshi**, **allii**, **TanaR**, **Skippy Agogo**, **Pattox0111**, **Willing to Learn**, **bga1974**, **darknessqueen4u**, **sakurabloom1124**, **ROONILWAZLIB101**, **edwards-angel22**, and **Wizpiress **are all awesomely AWESOME!!!! You guys have made this whole thing enjoyable.

**Disclaimer:** This whole thing belongs to J.K. Rowling, and I don't know who's more to blame for getting me hooked on this literary crack that IS Harry Potter; J.K. for writing it, or my ex-girlfriend for getting me into it. Both of them are enablers, and I should sue them for the time and money they've stolen from me through my addiction to Harry Potter!!

* * *

**_AFTERMATH_**

**Chapter 41 -- All ****Apologies**

_CRACK!_

"I bloody well _hate_ this!" Ron grumbled to himself as he Apparated into the Grangers' back garden. He never would have risked doing something like that during the day, in case some Muggles should see him, but between the trees and privacy fence in the garden, he was almost certain he wouldn't be spotted, "Why do _I_ always have to be the one who comes crawling to _her_?"

"Hello, Ronald."

So much for not being spotted; at least, he wouldn't be spotted by Muggles _other than_ the Grangers. He hadn't really expected…or _wanted_, really…to run into Hermione's parents, but had he stopped to think for a few minutes before rushing off, he might have. After all, it was a sunny summer Sunday afternoon; it wasn't exactly far-fetched to think _someone_ may have been out in the garden enjoying the sunshine. Which is what Elizabeth Granger was doing…taking advantage of the sunny weather to tend to her flowerbeds.

"Hello, Mrs. Granger," Ron replied quietly. He moved up the garden towards Hermione's mother, but couldn't bring himself to look her in the eye…he figured Hermione probably told her they were fighting, and he didn't know how her mother might react to him in such a case.

"It's rather warm out today, would you care for some lemonade?" she asked, getting up from where she knelt, pruning her rosebushes, "I'm afraid we don't have any pumpkin juice."

"Erm…no…no thanks, I'm not thirsty," he said, although his mouth was starting to feel a little dry, "Is…err…Hermione around? I was hoping to…erm…talk to her."

"She's up in her room, I think," Mrs. Granger said, matter-of-factly. She looked Ron over, noticing how embarrassed he looked…how uncomfortable. Her heart went out to him. "You can go up and see her if you'd like, Ronald, but I don't know if she'll want to talk to you. She seemed quite cross when she arrived."

Ron nodded and mumbled something that vaguely sounded like "Thanks" and headed into the house. He moved through the kitchen and into the hallway, heading for the stairs. Yelling from the den drew his attention, and Ron quietly poked his head in to see what the commotion was. What he found was Mr. Granger sitting on the couch yelling at the television.

"Pass the ball to Sheringham, you bloody bastard! He's open!!"

Ron looked at the television and saw Mr. Granger watching a group of men in shorts kicking a small, black-and-white ball around a green pitch with white lines painted on it. He was immediately reminded of the West Ham poster that hung above Dean's bed in the dorm at Hogwarts.

"YES!!" Mr. Granger yelled, jumping off the couch as one of the blokes in shorts kicked the ball past another bloke in shorts into some sort of frame supporting a net-like patchwork of string…similar to a Quaffle being tossed through a goal hoop, Ron thought.

Ron was just about to continue on his journey to Hermione's room when Mr. Granger turned around and noticed him loitering at the doorway to the den. Mr. Granger pointed the remote control – Ron recognized the little device from the time he'd had dinner with the Grangers back in May – at the TV and the men in shorts froze.

"Ron!" Mr. Granger exclaimed, waving for him to enter the room and join him, "What a surprise! Come on in, son, and watch the match with me."

"Err…I came to speak to Hermione," Ron said, sheepishly entering the room.

"I heard her running a bath earlier," Mr. Granger said, offering Ron a seat on the couch, "She's likely still in the tub. Let's watch the match for a bit, and then I'll go check on her. She seemed to need some time to cool down."

"Oh," Ron said, realizing that Mr. Granger must have known they were fighting.

"Don't worry about it, Ron," Mr. Granger said, putting an arm around him in a fatherly manner, "They get mad at us…it's what women do. We act like prats, they get mad, we swallow our pride and apologize, things go back to normal, and then eventually the whole process starts all over again."

Ron nodded at what Hermione's father was saying and relaxed a bit. He'd expected her parents to be angry with him after what happened between himself and Hermione. He was more than a little surprised at the way they still accepted him. He wondered if this was how Hermione felt around _his_ family – like she belonged, even if she wasn't a blood relation. It was a good feeling.

John picked up the remote control off the coffee table and pointed it at the television. Suddenly the men in shorts began moving around again. Ron turned his attention to the television.

"Is this _feetball_?" Ron asked, watching the men in red run up the pitch kicking the black-and-white ball back-and-forth, trying to keep it away from the men in yellow.

"_Foot_ball," John corrected him, "I didn't think wizards knew about this."

"One of my dorm mates at Hogwarts," Ron explained, "He was half-Muggle; he had a poster over his bed. West Ham, they were called."

"But you've never seen a football match yourself?" John asked, intrigued at the prospect of teaching Ron something new about the non-magical world. Ron shook his head "no" and John smiled broadly. "Well then, now's as good a time as any to learn everything there is to know about football."

"But Hermione…" Ron said, reminding Mr. Granger of why he was here.

"She'll be down when she's finished," John said, waving a hand dismissively, "First things first; when you're sitting down to watch a football match you have to be properly prepared. It helps when the women are occupied with something else…much as they are now…it cuts down on the interruptions."

Ron nodded. He could see how that could help. He hated being interrupted when he was listening to a Quidditch match on the wizard wireless, and his mum _always_ had something "more important" for him to do besides sitting on his bum, listening to Quidditch.

"Second thing you need in order to enjoy a football match on the telly is a bowl of snacks," John Granger pointed to the large bowl of crisps sitting on the coffee table, "And a nice stout Guinness."

Mr. Granger used a small, metal thing to open a bottle which he then passed to Ron. He looked down at the black bottle that Mr. Granger handed to him; it was similar in shape…if not color…to a butterbeer bottle, but as he sniffed at the mouth of the bottle, it smelled nothing like butterbeer.

"Cheers!" Mr. Granger exclaimed, clinking his own bottle of Guinness against Ron's before taking a long pull off the bottle, "Come on, Ron, drink up!"

Ron took a tentative sip from the bottle and nearly spit it out. It _tasted_ nothing like butterbeer, either. Mr. Granger watched him and laughed, slapping him on the back.

"You'll get used to the taste, son," John said, smiling, "Now for the most important part of enjoying a match on the telly: the match itself!"

He nodded to the screen where the blokes in yellow now had the ball and were doing their best to keep the blokes in red from regaining control.

"I recorded this last night while Liz and I were out," John explained. Ron nodded along, but he really didn't understand the nuances of TVs and VCRs, "It's just a pre-season match, you understand, but you can really get a sense of how the season is going to go from watching the pre-season match-ups."

"Are either of these teams West Ham?" Ron asked. He only knew of one football team, but he figured the odds of either team being the one he'd heard were pretty slim. Still, if one of them was West Ham he'd at least _feel_ like he knew something.

"No, son, the boys in red are _our_ team…Manchester United," Mr. Granger said the name with pride, causing a smile to form on Ron's lips. He almost sounded like Ron, himself, when talking about the Chudley Cannons, "And the ruddy bastards in yellow are the Brøndby IF…from Denmark."

"Denmark…got it," Ron nodded. Of course, he couldn't be sure if he could even find Denmark on a map if he had to, but luckily he didn't have to. One of the "ruddy bastards in yellow" kicked the ball at the goal, but it was caught by the Manchester keeper and thrown to one of the other red blokes who proceeded to kick it down field.

Mr. Granger, in-between cheers and catcalls at the TV, explained all aspects of the sport of football to Ron, from the positions played by the various footballers to the scoring and penalties to league titles that would be up for contention once the regular season started. In turn, Ron explained Quidditch to Mr. Granger, and the two discussed the differences and similarities while the match played out before them.

An hour later, nearly a dozen empty bottles of Guinness lay strewn about the coffee table, and the crisps that hadn't been consumed by the two men lay in crumbs on the table near the upturned bowl. The football match had ended, and Manchester United had come out on top of the Brøndby IF by a score of 6-to-4. John Granger and Ron (who became much more enthusiastic about the match the more bottles of Guinness he emptied) were ecstatic as _their_ team beat the "ruddy yellow bastards from Denmark".

"Let's drink a toast to the winners!" John exclaimed, getting to his feet and swaying slightly.

"A toast!" Ron repeated, also standing up…although it took him a couple of tries to actually get to his feet.

The two men raised their bottles as Mr. Granger made his toast, "God save the Queen, God Bless the British Empire, and thank CHRIST for Manchester United!!"

"Manchester United!!" Ron called out. They clanked their bottles together and both men each took another long drink from their bottles of stout. Ron dropped back down on the couch as Mr. Granger continued to celebrate.

"Olé, olé-olé-olé! O-lé, o-olé!"

Ron found himself struck with a case of the drunken giggles as Mr. Granger proceeded to prance around the den and chant in celebration. His good time was soon cut short by the stern-sounding voice coming from the doorway to the den.

"_What_ is going on in here?!"

John Granger stopped his chanting and turned sheepishly towards the door at the sound of his wife's voice. He quailed slightly at the angry look on his wife's face and did his best to come up with an answer for her.

"I was teaching Ron about football, Lizzie," John explained, his words were a little slurred, but not terribly so, "Can you believe he's never seen a match before? I felt it was my duty to educate the boy."

"And was it also your duty to get the both of you completely tanked during this education?" Liz Granger asked, her eyebrow arched critically. Despite her apparent sternness, she found it rather cute to see her husband bonding with Ron, like he was the son they never had. But she wasn't about to let John know she thought he was cute…not when he was making such a mess of her nice, clean den.

"Well, no, that was just a perk," John laughed, drawing an angry look and a low growl from his wife. John had the presence-of-mind to look guilty, at least, and took on the countenance of a scolded child, "Sorry, love."

"You've not yet begun to be sorry, John Granger," his wife said pointedly, but the smallest hint of a smile teased at the corners of her mouth, "Now clean up this mess."

"Yes, dear," John nodded.

Elizabeth Granger left the room, smiling once her back was to her husband, and made her way back down the hall toward the kitchen to wash up and start preparing supper. John breathed a sigh of relief and crashed down onto the couch next to Ron who had been conspicuously silent in Mrs. Granger's presence.

"Ron, you can never go home," Mr. Granger said as he took the empty bowl off the coffee table and began sweeping crisps back into it.

Ron looked over at him, a confused look in his slightly-glassy eyes.

"I suspect the moment you leave, I'm going to get quite an earful," John explained, "So to prevent that, you're just going to have to move in. It's the only way."

"If _he's_ moving _in_, then _I'm_ moving _out_."

Ron and John turned to face the doorway at the sound of the new voice, where they found Hermione standing, looking cross, wrapped in her fuzzy pink bathrobe with her hair wrapped up, turban-style, in a bath towel.

"Hello, poppet," Mr. Granger said with a smile, gathering up the empty bottles of Guinness, "Finished with your bath, I see."

She nodded stiffly, her eyes on Ron. "I heard yelling down here, and wanted to see what the commotion was."

"Your dad was teaching me about football," Ron said, finally finding his voice again. It was a little shaky and a bit slurred.

"You came all this way to watch football with my father?" Hermione said hotly, "Ronald Weasley you are completely insufferable!"

Hermione turned on her heel and swept from the room, running down the hall to the stairs, and then bolting up the steps, heading for her bedroom. Ron jumped to his feet, or at least he tried to, but a sudden head-rush left him dizzy and he dropped back down onto the couch. It took him two more tries before he got up and managed to make his way out of the den, but not before barking his shins on the coffee table and cursing loudly.

He stumbled up the stairs and followed the sound of the slamming door to Hermione's bedroom. He shoved open the door and stumbled inside, leaning against the door to keep him from swaying.

"Hermione…!"

"Go away, Ron!" she shouted, sitting on her bed and facing away from him.

"I came here to talk to you, 'Mione!" he said, moving over and dropping down onto the bed.

"It looked to me like you came over to spend quality time with my father!" Hermione shot back, still not looking at him, "I can't believe I actually felt _bad_ for not being supportive of you earlier."

"I was on my way up to see you when your dad asked me to watch the football match with him," Ron explained, reaching over to put a hand on her shoulder which she shrugged off, "Was I supposed to tell him no? I want your dad to like me, 'Mione."

"Well, I'm sure you and my father will be very happy together," she huffed.

"If it makes any difference, I was coming here to make things right between us when I ran into your dad," he said. He reached over to touch her shoulder again, and this time she didn't shrug it off, "I would've come up to see you, but he said you were having a bath…do you really think he'd let me come up and talk to you while you were all naked and wet."

"I think my father would have killed you," she replied, turning to face him with the hint of a smile on her lips, although her eyes were still somewhat hard, "Which would be a shame since he really does like you, Ron. Both my parents do."

"Fortunate, that, since I'm completely mad for their daughter," Ron didn't look at her as he said this, keeping his eyes on his shoes. He found, over time, when he acted sheepish and shy, Hermione was less inclined to stay mad at him.

"You really are infuriating," Hermione sighed, getting up off the bed, "Do you know that? I'm mad at you, Ron, stop trying to make me smile!"

"Sorry," Ron muttered, but he didn't mean it. If he could make her smile, he knew half the battle would be over.

Hermione turned away from him and looked out her bedroom window, "You said you came here to talk, Ron…so talk."

"Err…alright…well…" Ron didn't like being put on the spot, but at least he was getting a chance to talk to her, "I'm sorry for ignoring you and leaving you behind at the Burrow. I was hurt and angry, and I just wanted to be left alone."

"I understand," she said, turning around and facing him. She really _did_ want to stay angry with him, since he had effectively abandoned her in front of his family, and she was incredibly embarrassed, but when she looked at him…looking like a little lost puppy…she couldn't stay angry…and the thought of the way he could disarm her that way, with his pathetic puppy-dog look made her even angrier. Well, it would have, if he wasn't so damned cute, "Ron…I…I'm sorry."

"Come again?" Ron looked up at her, eyes wide. He wasn't sure he heard what he thought he heard, "Did you just say…?"

"I said _'I'm sorry'_, you prat! Now don't throw it back in my face!" she snapped.

"Right…sorry…wasn't trying to…carry on, 'Mione," he stammered.

Hermione sighed heavily before moving to the bed to sit next to him, and taking his hand, "I should have been supportive of you, instead of…of…ganging up on you…with your mother. I wish you were coming with me back to Hogwarts, but I _know_ why you're not…and I can accept that."

"You sure?" Ron asked, looking her in the eye.

"Yes," she nodded, locking eyes with him, "Do you forgive me?"

"Well, I don't know…" he said, smirking as he rubbed his chin in a contemplative manner.

"What?!"

"I mean, I'm hardly ever in _this_ position," Ron explained, "With _you_ apologizing to _me_. Maybe I should drag this out a bit…prolong it, yeah? That why I can enjoy it longer."

"Ron…!"

He smiled brightly as she glared at him. "On second thought, maybe I'll just forgive you, so we can move on to the kissing part of _'kiss-and-make-up'_."

Hermione laughed as he pulled her into his arms. He really was a prat, but he was her prat, and she wouldn't have it any other way. They kissed passionately for several minutes before a knock on her open door caused them to break apart and jump to their feet.

"Is it safe for me to look yet?" Mr. Granger asked as he stood in the doorway with one hand over his eyes and the other behind his back, "As much as I want to see you two reconcile, I don't think I want to watch my daughter get snogged by her boyfriend…no matter how much I happen to like the lad."

"It's safe, Daddy," Hermione laughed, rolling her eyes.

"Good!" John Granger took his hand away from his face and smiled at the two teens before him. He moved his hand out from behind his back and revealed a beat-up old football, "Ron, catch!"

John tossed the old patchwork black-and-white ball at Ron and he deftly caught it before shooting a confused look first at Hermione and then at Mr. Granger. The middle-aged dentist smiled at the young redhead before explaining himself.

"Now that you've _seen_ it played, Ron my boy, I figured you'd like to give it a go yourself out in the garden. After all, if you can play a sport on a broomstick fifty feet in the air, playing a bit of football should be a piece of cake!" John smiled broadly at Ron as he looked at the ball in his hands, then looked over at his daughter, "Get dressed, poppet, and you can join us."

"Oh absolutely, Daddy," Hermione replied, shoving Ron towards the door, "Running around in the summer heat, playing football with a couple of blokes who've been drinking…this should be positively delightful!"

As Ron and her father left the room and shut the door, she could just hear the beginnings of a conversation between the two men. "Y'know, Mr. Granger, once I've played football, maybe _you'd_ like to try your hand at Quidditch…"

"RON…!!"

_Crack!_

It was after dark when Ron Apparated onto the landing out in front of the flat and made his way inside. He heard a noise coming from the kitchen – the sound of someone washing dishes – and assumed it was George. He was in for a bit of a shock when he found out who it actually was.

"Mum!" Ron exclaimed, completely stunned to see his mother standing at the kitchen sink, washing dishes, "What're you doing here?"

"Well isn't _that_ just a wonderful way to greet the woman who spent eighteen hours in labor giving birth to you," Molly said in exasperation as she waved her wand and several plates flew from the draining rack to stack themselves neatly in a cupboard.

Ron blushed, embarrassed by his own inadvertent rudeness towards his mother, "Sorry, Mum…I'm just surprised to see you, is all."

"Well, you're lucky I _did_ pop in, Ronald," she said, clucking her tongue at him as she finished with the last of the dishes, "You had a sink full of dishes just begging to be washed."

"It's George's turn to do the dishes, Mum," Ron explained, leaning against the kitchen doorjamb, "He figures if he leaves then sit long enough, it'll be my turn to do them and I'll get stuck doing _his_ dishes for him."

"You poor dear," Molly cooed in a motherly manner, "Sit down and let me make you some tea."

Ron shot his mother a quizzical look as she waved her wand and set a kettle of water on the stove to come to a boil. Shrugging, Ron did as he was told and took a seat. Within a few minutes, he had a steaming cup of tea in front of him along with a plate full of treats.

"Chocolate biscuits?" Ron looked surprised, since he was sure that George ate the last of the biscuits they'd bought at the market almost a week ago.

"I brought them from home," Molly explained as she poured herself a cup of tea, "They're still your favorite, aren't they?"

Ron nodded, surprised that his mother remembered that her homemade chocolate biscuits were, indeed, his favorite. He wouldn't have thought she'd have the time to remember what _his_ favorites were, considering she had so many other people to worry about.

"Help yourself then, dear," Molly prompted, pushing the plate towards him, "I brought a tin full of them, so you'll have some for later."

Ron was completely beside himself. He wasn't used to such preferential treatment from his mother, except, perhaps, on his birthday. He eyed her suspiciously as he took a biscuit off the plate.

"What're you on about, Mum?" Ron asked, hesitating before taking a bite of the biscuit; it was chewy and warm and delicious…everything he remembered and loved about his mother's homemade biscuits. He popped the rest of the treat into his mouth and spoke with his mouth full, "What's wrong?"

"Well, other than you still talking with your mouth full after all these years," Molly replied, sounding stern but with a hint of teasing in her voice…not something Ron was used to hearing from her, "Nothing's wrong, dear. Does something have to be wrong for me to want to come and visit my sons at their flat?"

"You can't exactly be missing us," Ron quipped, popping another biscuit into his mouth and washing it down with a gulp of tea, "We were just over the Burrow a few hours ago for brunch."

"Actually, Ronald, dear," Molly said, blushing a bit, "I came over because of what happened at brunch; I think an apology is in order."

"Bloody Hell!" Ron exclaimed, jumping to his feet, "Why am I always being expected to apologize for _everything_?!"

"Ronald!" Molly yelled, looking crossly at him, "Mind your language, and please sit down."

He gave his mother a rebellious look, but he did eventually sit back down, huffing as he stuffed a biscuit in his mouth and folding his arms across his chest in a stubborn sort of fashion.

"I'm not asking you to apologize, Ronald," his mother explained, fidgeting with her cup of tea, "I'm here to apologize to _you_."

Ron's mouth dropped open in shock so fast the chocolate biscuit he'd just shoved in there fell out and landed in his cup of tea with a _plop_.

"What…?"

"Ronald, you're a man now," his mother explained, looking a bit misty-eyed as she spoke, "And as loathe as I am to admit that my baby boy is all grown up, the truth is that you are. You're old enough to make your own decisions, and I should respect them."

"Blimey…"

"I do wish you had decided to return to school, Ronald," Molly admitted, "But considering your reasons for not going back, I can't help but respect your wishes…"

"Err…thanks, Mum…"

"Have you any idea how proud I am of you, Ronald?" Molly asked, her eyes starting to overflow with tears.

"Erm…no, not really," Ron admitted, shrugging his shoulders.

Molly reached across the table and caressed her baby-boy's cheek, noticing the very un-baby-like stubble that scratched at her fingers.

"The way you've helped your brother these last few months…" she began, the tears falling down her cheeks, "You've always put everyone before yourself, Ronald, and I've never been prouder of any of my children than I am of you."

"Pull the other one," he snorted with a smirk. After eighteen years of living in his brothers' shadows, Ron knew who his mother took pride in, and who was just the hand-me-down child.

"Ronald, I'm quite serious," Molly said, reaching out to take his hand, "I don't tell you nearly often enough, and the fact that you feel inferior to your brothers is, I suppose, a failing of mine as a mother."

"…" Ron looked at her, not sure what he was supposed to say. Was he supposed to agree? Disagree? Laugh it off as a lark?

"Every one of my sons has gone off into the world and done what they wanted to do with their lives…except one," she continued, squeezing his hand lovingly, "My youngest son went off into the world and selflessly did what was right, no matter how hard it was and no matter what anyone else had to say about it."

Molly let go of Ron's hand and stood, moving over to the kitchen window and looking out onto Diagon Alley below them, "As a mother, I was torn, you see. A mother wants her children to go far in life, to be successful, and to find true happiness; but how can a mother be anything _but_ proud of a son who goes out into the world and forgoes his own happiness and success in order to secure them for someone else?"

"Mum…?" Ron looked with concern at his mother. She wasn't facing him, but he could tell by the way her shoulders were shaking that she was crying. He got up and moved over to her, putting an arm around her, "You make it sound like I'm some bloody saint, Mum!"

"Maybe not," Molly said, chuckling through her tears as she turned to face her son once more, reaching up and patting his cheek, "But I think there are a lot of people who would consider you a hero…and not just because of that Order of Merlin you received. And even if he'd never admit it, you're brother agrees with me."

Ron blushed to the tips of his ears at his mother's words, but he smirked at her, "Now you _are_ pulling the other one," he laughed, "George may think of me as many things, but _hero_ isn't one of them."

"I much prefer thinking of you as a _fuck-monkey_, Ronniekins."

"George!" Molly snapped, "Watch your language!"

"How long've you been standing there eavesdropping?!" Ron shot at his brother, glaring angrily. Ron knew that George would take great pride in taking the mickey out of him if he had overheard the conversation he was having with their mother.

"I wasn't eavesdropping, Ronnie," George lied as he walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table, "I was merely coming in here to get something to eat."

"There's biscuits on the table," Ron growled, pointing to the plate of chocolate treats, "Take 'em and go, so me and Mum can finish talking."

"Biscuits, you say?" George replied with a smirk before making his voice sound high-pitched and pretending to swoon like a damsel in distress, "Oh yes…these should abate my hunger quite nicely! Ickle Ronnie, you're my hero!!"

"GEORGE…!!!"

Molly Weasley smiled as her youngest son chased his brother out of the kitchen, shouting threats and throwing chocolate biscuits at him. He may not look like it or act like it, but Ron was a hero in her eyes, and while she might not tell him nearly enough, she would never be prouder of any of her sons than she was of her baby boy.

* * *

**Author's End Notes: **Well, there you have it! We're one step closer to the end. Hope you enjoyed it. I felt I needed to throw a Molly/Ron scene into the story since she treated him so poorly in Chapter 40. Hopefully, this scene got the job done for those who felt Molly was wrong and totally owed Ron an apology.

Feel free to review, cuz you know I reply to each and every one!

See you in two weeks for the FINAL CHAPTER.


	42. The Long Goodbye

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:** To everything...turn, turn, turn...there is a season...turn, turn, turn. Leave it to the hippies to rip off the Bible. The point here, however, is not to bash hippies (despite their patchulie stink and hemp clothing) but to talk of endings. This is the end (as Jim Morrison once said). What you see before you is the ultimate, the final, the LAST chapter of **_AFTERMATH_**. This is the end.

This story has come a long way. Originally, it began as a dirty little porn story that my ex-girlfriend wanted me to write for her. At some point, Professor Snape (who she has a major crush on...ICK!!!) was going to come back from the dead and get it on with an original character that SHE created (i.e. an avatar that represented herself). However, somewhere along the line this little story moved away from what it was going to be and became something more. With the exception of Chapter 8, the dirty stuff was kept to a minimum, and this became a story I could be (mostly) proud of. I went a little insane working for nearly a month straight, posting new chapters every single day, but I got better and learned to pace myself and manged to churn out some pretty good stuff (even if I convinced myself that it was complete CRAP the entire time I was writing it). My ex never did read the story...which, y'know, didn't do my ego any good...but all of you people did, and considering how many of you have been enjoying the ride, I really don't feel too bad about her not checking it out.

I wasn't planning on posting this thing just yet. I wanted to wait until this weekend. But when one of my readers told me of a recent death in the family, and that me posting my final chapter would really be a pick-me-up, well, I threw caution to the wind and decided to go live with the story NOW instead of this weekend. Let me take this opportunity to thank my beta reader CutewithAcapital-Q for her helpful suggestions, and my pre-reader (she doesn't like being called a beta) lemondrop43...even though I posted before she had a chance to give me her suggestions (sorry about that, Lemonhead!).

Now, while this is the final chapter of **_AFTERMATH_**, rest assured that this is not the last thing I'm going to write. I have many more stories planned, and most of them are one-shots that take place in the **_AFTERMATH _**universe. So, while I may not be giving you a 42-chapter-long story every time, you WILL be getting more stuff from me. With any luck, I plan on being an active participant in the fanfiction community for some time to come.

This is weird...I'm trying to come up with something witty to send this story off with a laugh, but I'm coming up empty. I've been looking forward to ending this thing since I first started posting it back in August, but now that I'm here, looking at the final chapter, getting ready to post it, I'm finding myself feeling...sad. It's like I'm sending my kid off to boarding school onboard some magical steam engine somewhere. Go figure, right?

*sigh*

Well, people, this is it. The final chapter. The end. I really hope you guys (and dolls) enjoy it.

**Edinburgh Love**, **Ann Malfoy**, **Cantletharrygo**, **CutewithAcapital-Q**, **fatyellowrat**, **Avanell**, **Dizzy0305**, **katie1985**, **Elytha**, **Trude**, **mugglemamma**, **emmy1124**, **EmmaJane-HPfan**, **Moony3005**, **IsI Wisi**, **Lady Anja**, **embergrl9010**, **the written princess**, **MissFinnegan**, **Tiffany M**, **kareem33**, **randomguy1517**, **Shlesha**, **ronniemione**,** sarah-keyko**, **not for lack of trying**, **Emma04**, **Jacob's-One-Girl**, **Ravenhaired2**, **Nosta82**, **Aly-Cat 101**, **EnglishGirlVerity**,** marauders rox**, **Lane Joey**, **allenterrill**, **skippyboo**, **Larelles**, **kellymc1**, **xxafterglowxx**, **screamxheart**, **zsdvnn**, **Foxy-Steph**, **Kirsty-Luan**, **marvelous-fanwriter**, **hctb**, **ronlover997**, **HeatherRiddle**, **LadyInWriting**, **beautifulshamrock**, **shadowmonger**, **lemondrop43**, **watched 2 much tv**, **LaRay93**, **CwamBeta**, **Chick Flicks- Rock 'N' Roll**, **james87**, **griffyndorgirl**, **iriepotter**, **Trebius**, **Puff2836**, **FinlandGirl**, **Kate7**,** oroshi**, **allii**, **TanaR**, **Skippy Agogo**, **Pattox0111**, **Willing to Learn**, **bga1974**, **darknessqueen4u**, **sakurabloom1124**, **ROONILWAZLIB101**, **edwards-angel22**, **Wizpiress**, **Princessenr1**, **unknownliketomorrow**, **ObsessedRHShipper **and **Annabel-lurvs-purple** have all been kind enough to review my work. Thank you all for making the writing and posting of this story enjoyable for me.

**DISCLAIMER:** J.K. Rowling owns the Harry Potter characters and all the related places, things, and other intellectual properties. She was incredibly lucky to hit it so big with the books that inspired this fanfiction; and we were all equally lucky to have found those books and some of the most enjoyable fictional characters ever created.

* * *

**_AFTERMATH_**

**Chapter 42 -- The Long Goodbye**

When the first day of September arrived, excitement filled the air. Hermione and Ginny would be returning to Hogwarts one last time, and Harry would be leaving for the Auror Academy, and everyone wanted to be there to send them off. Of course, the logistics of getting everyone together when they lived in different parts of the country was quite overwhelming.

It took quite a bit of doing, but somehow all the Weasleys, the Grangers, and the requisite significant others, all managed to reach Platform 9¾ a good fifteen minutes before the Hogwarts Express was scheduled to leave…an unusual occurrence for the Weasleys who were often arriving with only two minutes to spare.

Almost immediately upon arriving through the barrier, Harry and Hermione separated from everyone else, intent on going into the lavatories and changing into their robes. A few minutes later, Harry had donned his Auror Cadet robes, and made his way back out onto the platform where he'd left his backpack and owl cage.

An angry screech from the owl cage drew Harry's attention to Cyril, his new owl. He looked up at Harry with a disgruntled look and Harry was sure he knew what the problem was. Cyril had been locked in the cage since last night. No doubt he wanted to get out and stretch his wings. Harry crouched down and opened the cage, letting Cyril out. Harry expected the bird to fly off, but instead he hopped up onto Harry's shoulder, causing Harry to smile. The smile was short-lived, however, since Cyril wasn't so much looking for a place to perch as he was looking for some revenge.

"Ow! Quit it! Ow!! Quit it! OW!!! QUIT IT!!" Harry reached over and gently pushed the grey-and-brown speckled screech owl off his shoulder, sending it flying off to the top of a nearby signpost where it looked at Harry and screeched indignantly.

"The new owl not working out, Harry?" Ron asked, walking up behind him and slapping him on the back.

"Cyril keeps biting me," Harry griped, reaching up to tenderly feel at his ear that was now bloody.

"He does seem a bit mental," Ron nodded, smiling, "But at least he's not completely sack-of-hammers like Pig…flying all over the place and banging into things!"

"I miss Hedwig," Harry said, frowning as his new owl continued to screech at him from atop the signpost, "She was such an even-tempered owl…she was really kind of sweet."

"Aww…"

Harry was suddenly engulfed from behind by a hug. He turned his head to see a pretty young redhead was attached to him. "Hi, Gin."

"I'm sorry you miss Hedwig, Harry, but I'm sure Cyril will work out. He just needs some training up!"

"And if he's still mental come Christmas," Ron said with a smirk, "We can feed him to Crookshanks!"

"Who are we feeding to Crookshanks?" Hermione asked as she joined her three best friends, now dressed in her Hogwarts robes with her Head Girl badge in full view on her lapel. The aforementioned Crookshanks was mewling impatiently in his cat-carrier.

"Cyril," Harry, Ron, and Ginny said as one.

At the prospect of being allowed to eat the cantankerous owl, Crookshanks began to meow contentedly, licking his chops as if he completely understood what was being said. Cyril, too, seemed to understand, as he screeched angrily at all four of them, and shot an angry glare at the ginger cat that was eyeing him like tomorrow night's supper.

The two couples laughed at the interaction between the owl and the cat before the sound of a shy, quiet cough drew their attention to a First Year Hogwarts student looking at them with awe and fascination.

"Excuse me, sir, could I have your autograph?" the eleven-year-old student looked absolutely intimidated as he held up a quill and a Chocolate Frog Card.

Harry rolled his eyes and Hermione and Ginny giggled at the prospect of the child asking for his autograph like he was a famous Quidditch player or something. Ron tried to hide his smirk as Harry reached for the card with a deep sigh. Of course, what happened next surprised and delighted the four of them.

"Oh no, Mr. Potter," the First Year said, slightly embarrassed, "I'm sorry…but I don't have _your_ card…although my sister does. I tried to trade her two Circes, a Morgana, and a Kirley Duke, but she wouldn't trade me."

The two couples looked down at the young Hogwarts student in surprise.

"Wait a minute," Ron said, looking confused, "If you're not asking for Harry's autograph then whose…?"

"Yours, Mr. Weasley," the young boy revealed, holding up the Famous Wizards Card bearing Ron's picture, "I traded an Agrippa to get it! I hope to have all of the Golden Trio soon."

Ron was completely stunned as the First Year handed him the card and the quill. Ron took them and quickly scrawled his signature on the card before handing them back. Smiling broadly up at him, like Ron was his new hero, the boy took his card and quill and ran off calling to his friend and waving his newly autographed card.

"He traded an Agrippa…for _me_…?" Ron was seemingly in a state of shock, until Hermione gently nudged him back to reality.

"We've got to get going, _Mr. Weasley_," Hermione said, with a smile.

"Yeah, the train leaves in less than ten minutes," Ginny added, cutting across the lighthearted scene and infusing it with a dose of sudden depression.

They started to walk towards the scarlet steam engine to get onboard, but Ron grabbed Hermione's hand and held her back. She turned to look at him, a bit frantic at the possibility of missing her ride to Hogwarts.

"Ron…the train…!"

"Just give me a minute, 'Mione," he said, looking her in the eye, "There's something I need to talk to you about."

She looked at Ron and found herself a bit worried. He looked so serious…and a little green at the same time. "Ron, are you alright? You're not sick, are you?"

"No, I'm fine…I'm great…I'm brilliant!" Ron exclaimed, rambling a bit and drawing a concerned look from Hermione.

"Ron…?"

"No…wait…listen, 'Mione," Ron said, nervously, grabbing her hands, "I need to say this, and we're running out of time."

"Okay…" she still looked concerned, but Hermione gave Ron the chance to speak his piece.

"Err…do you remember…after Fred…after _the funeral_…we were talking about _us_," he looked at her, hoping she remembered what he was talking about, "And you said…we said…erm…err…"

"Ron, please! The train…!"

"Right…erm…you told me that we could get…that I could ask…" Ron was sweating profusely right now. He put a clammy hand into his pocket, fingering the small box, "You said I could…_propose_…before you left for school."

He pulled the small black box out of his pocket and showed it to her.

"And your doing it _NOW_?! Hermione's heart was pounding in her chest. Ron was proposing to her while everyone else was hurrying onto the train before it pulled out of the station. She was going to miss the train and…suddenly, the situation dawned on her. Ron. Was. Proposing. The bloody train could bugger off for all she cared. She smiled brightly, down at the box, it was still closed and as she looked back up at Ron he looked almost deathly afraid. "Ask me, Ron."

"What…?" he looked at her, seemingly confused.

"Open the box and _ask_ me!!" she laughed at how odd he was behaving. She'd seen him get more confident and relaxed with her…with the idea of _them_…over the summer…especially after they'd become lovers…but now he was back to being the nervous, stammering guy who couldn't express himself to her.

"Oh…err…right…" Ron fumbled with the box, finally getting it opened. It was facing away from Hermione, so he had to turn it around the right way, and when he did, she gasped dramatically.

The ring wasn't fancy, and the diamond wasn't huge. For Hermione, though, it looked perfect. After all, she wasn't a fancy, showy, ostentatious type of woman...and she couldn't help wondering if Ron had taken that into consideration when picking out the ring. She felt tears start to form at the corners of her eyes, and she brought her hands to her mouth to keep from squealing. She continued to look at the ring, and then at Ron, who still looked rather peaky, and she realized he _still_ hadn't asked her.

"Ron…!"

Ron jumped as she said his name sharply, but it seemed to draw him out of his trance. He looked up at her, his eyes full of emotion. His mouth was dry, and his stomach was doing somersaults. He did his best to clear his throat and ask her the question she'd been waiting to hear.

"'M-M-Mione…you know I love you…"

"I love you, too, Ron," she said softly, tears starting to pour down her cheeks.

"Right…good…I mean…it's _good_ that we love each other…" he was so nervous, he felt like a complete and utter moron, "I'm not good at these sort of things…you know that. I mean, I'm getting _better_, but I'm no suave Mr. Romance…"

"You're not _that_ bad," she said, smiling and lovingly stroking his arm, "Now…weren't you trying to _ask_ me something?"

"Yeah, I was…" he said, nodding. He got a faraway look in his eye, and seemed to forget that he was talking to her.

Hermione put her hand on his cheek, caressing it gently and bringing him back down to earth, "Ask me, Ron. Please?"

He reached up with his free hand and took her hand away from his face, and then grasping both her hands together in his hand he nodded to himself and cleared his throat. "Right…well…my point is…I reckon I'm not good with romantic mushy stuff…but I'm _trying_..." he looked up at her, and her eyes were locked on him, making him feel even more nervous, "I'm trying and I'll keep trying for as long as you're with me. So, Hermione Granger…erm…will you?"

Hermione quirked an eyebrow at him when he stopped speaking; that was it? _That_ was how he was going to ask for her hand in marriage? She was tempted to say no, and tell him she wouldn't say yes until he asked her properly…but as she looked at him, holding his breath, desperately awaiting her answer, all the love in the world for her evident in those blue eyes of his, there was no way she could say no. No way she could deny him…deny herself…the happiness of agreeing to marry him.

Harry and Ginny had been standing about five feet from the train, holding each other tight and getting in as many passionate kisses as they could before the train conductor signaled that the train was ready to leave. The sound of Ron's joyful _whoop_ from across the platform drew their attention and caused the lovebirds to break apart.

Harry and Ginny, hand-in-hand, hurried over to where Ron was holding Hermione in a tight hug, spinning her around. Hermione was giggling like a giddy little schoolgirl, and while she _was_ a schoolgirl, she was not typically giddy, and she almost never giggled. Ginny and Harry knew something was up immediately.

"What's going on?" Harry asked, shooting a confused look back-and-forth between the smiling, flushed faces of his two best friends. Before they could answer, Ginny erupted with an ear-piercing shriek and rushed at Hermione, grabbing her left hand.

"Ohmygodohmygodohmygod!!" Ginny exclaimed and threw her arms around Hermione, hugging her tight. Harry couldn't help but look worried at the two girls who were, all of a sudden, behaving an awful lot like Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil. "You're finally going to be my sister!!!"

"Huh?" Harry looked to Ron for some sort of explanation, but he was too busy beaming with pride and didn't seem to notice Harry. Finally, taking pity on Harry and his cluelessness, Ginny pulled Hermione's hand up to eye level with the future Auror.

"Ron proposed, Harry!!" Ginny explained, smiling almost as broadly as Hermione and Ron, "They're getting married!!"

"Who's getting married?"

The foursome turned around and found Molly, Arthur, Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Percy, Audrey, George, Angelina, and the Grangers standing about five yards behind them. Molly had been the one to ask the question, and when Ginny showed her Hermione's hand with the ring on it, Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Granger both swooped in and hugged the bride-to-be.

"I couldn't be happier!" Molly gushed, reaching up and caressing Hermione's face, "I'd always hoped that one day Ron would make you a Weasley!"

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said, with tears in her eyes, "You've always been so wonderful to me, I feel like I've already _been_ a Weasley since I was fourteen!"

"You have been, dear," Molly replied, kissing her cheek, "And it's not _Mrs. Weasley_ anymore…it's _Mum_ or _Molly_."

Hermione smiled and nodded, unsure if she'd ever be able to call Ron's mother anything _but_ Mrs. Weasley. They hugged again, and then Molly made a beeline for her son, grabbing him tight and hugging him for all she was worth.

"I'm so proud of you, Ronnie!! My baby boy is all grown up!!"

Ron blushed, awkwardly patting his mother on her back, but deep down all he wanted to do was tell her to "Geroff!" and go over and spend some time snogging his new fiancée before the train left.

"Congratulations, Hermione!" Mrs. Granger said, crying as she hugged her only child, "I'm so happy for you and Ron! You know he loves you very much."

"I know, Mum," Hermione replied, wiping her own tears on the sleeve of her robe.

"I can't wait to see my baby girl walking down the aisle in a beautiful white gown," Elizabeth Granger got a faraway look in her eye, reminiscent of Luna Lovegood.

"Don't get too attached to that image, Mum," Hermione laughed, "I have to finish Hogwarts first."

"Of course, you do, darling, but once you've graduated, what do you think…a summer wedding? Or maybe wait for the fall?"

"Mum…! I can't think about that yet, I mean, I'm still wrapping my mind around the fact that I'm engaged!!"

"And you couldn't have found a better young man to marry, poppet," John Granger said with a smile, sweeping in and kissing his daughter on the cheek, effectively saving her from her mother's wedding planning, "Any man who is respectful enough to ask for my blessing and yet stubborn enough to stand toe-to-toe with you in an argument is definitely the right bloke for you!"

"Daddy!" Hermione laughed, slapping his arm, "We don't argue _that_ much!"

"Of course not, poppet," John replied, smiling, "And flossing after every meal isn't the cornerstone of a healthy regimen of oral hygiene."

Before Hermione knew what was happening, she was being hugged and kissed by every member of the Weasley family, even receiving hugs from Fleur, Angelina and Audrey. She was so happy, but she couldn't help feeling like she was forgetting something. Suddenly, she turned and saw Harry and Ron standing there and she remembered…the train was about to leave, and she still needed to say goodbye to her two best friends.

"I'm going to miss you both so much!" Hermione cried, throwing her arms around each of the young men's necks. They hugged her tight, none of them wanting to let go and have their time together come to an end.

"Things aren't going to be the same without the two of you around," Ron said once the three of them broke the hug.

"You've got that right, mate," Harry nodded, "You guys have meant the world to me for so long…and now we're all going off on our own…"

"It's a bit scary," Hermione admitted.

"We'll get through this," Ron said, squeezing Hermione's hand, trying to be strong for her while he really felt miserable inside. He didn't want to be away from her for so long.

"Hey! Over here!"

The Trio turned and saw Ginny waving at them. In her hand was the wizard camera Ron and Hermione had gotten her for her birthday.

"Let me get a picture of you guys," she said, aiming the camera and motioning for them to stand together and look at her, "Smile guys!!"

The Trio smiled and Ginny snapped the picture. Despite the prospect of splitting up for several months, the smiles on their faces were warm and genuine. The smiles quickly vanished as the train whistle blew.

"We've got to go!" Hermione cried, gathering up Crookshanks' cage. She hurried towards the train, bidding everyone a loving, tearful goodbye. Ginny, too, was bidding everyone farewell and within a few moments they were both rushing to get on the train. Hermione was stopped in her tracks, however, when Ron once again grabbed her and pulled her to him. "Ron! I really have to g--…!"

She never finished her sentence as Ron crushed his lips against hers and gave Hermione a kiss that expressed everything he was feeling for her. It was such a kiss that it made her head swim and her knees weak. When they finally broke apart, Ron pressed his forehead against hers and caressed her cheek.

"I know I bollocksed this up right brilliantly," he said in a voice barely above a whisper, his eyes intently gazing into hers, "I'm sorry for that…but I promise…I will do whatever it takes to make you happy."

"Ron…it wouldn't be _us_ if it was all rose petals and candlelight," she whispered back, smiling brightly at him, "The way you did it…that was _you_…and to me, that makes it perfect."

They kissed one final time, and Ginny started screaming for Hermione. The train had started to pull away, and Hermione had to run to catch it. She jumped on and she and Ginny waved goodbye to the people they loved as the great scarlet steam engine whisked them away on their final journey to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Their families and friends remained silent as they watched the train pull out of the station, and it was only after it rounded a bend and disappeared from sight that anyone chose to speak.

"You know, I didn't want to ask this while Hermione was here," George said, moving up to drape his arm over Ron's shoulder, "Merlin knows she would've hexed me into next week if I did…"

"George…" Ron growled warningly. He _knew_ where his brother was headed with this.

"I've just gotta ask, though, little brother," George went on, paying no heed to his brother's dangerous tone, "Since you just couldn't _wait_ to propose…"

"George…!" Ron turned to face him, his eyes blazing and his face red.

"How pregnant is she?!"

"GEORGE!!!"

The next several minutes were spent with Ron angrily chasing George around the train platform, shooting spells, hexes, and curses out of his wand that his jokester-of-a-brother barely managed to avoid.

Bill and Charlie had to grab Ron and restrain him, while their mother proceeded to loudly scold George and threaten him with the singular task of degnoming the garden by himself every day for the next year if he didn't curb his mindless shenanigans. Mr. Weasley was left with the unenviable task of explaining to the Grangers that George was only kidding.

Once the excitement had cooled down, and Ron could be convinced to stop trying to mangle his brother, he walked over to where Harry was crouched, doing his best to get Cyril in his cage without losing a finger.

Ron and Harry exchanged a look, a brief feeling of longing and sadness tugging at them. For the briefest of moments, Ron found himself envious of Hermione, wishing he, too, had gone back to school…and equally envious of Harry, starting out on his great new adventure in the Auror Academy. It was only a brief twinge of envy, and it passed quickly as Harry moved from Ron's side, drawing his attention.

Harry was quickly engulfed in a bone-crushing hug by an openly weeping Mrs. Weasley, "You be sure and write us often, dear," she said between sobs, "And remember to stay safe."

Harry nodded, and Mrs. Weasley stood up on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. She moved aside, allowing her husband to say his goodbyes.

"Listen to your instructors and you'll do fine," Arthur said, shaking Harry's hand, "You'll be home for Christmas, yes?"

Harry nodded again, and was a bit taken aback when Mr. Weasley gave him a fatherly hug and stepped aside, taking his wife in his arms to comfort her.

"Don't worry, ickle Harry," George said with a wicked grin, "I'll dress the ghoul up to look like you and it'll be just like you never left. He likes to brood almost as much as you do!"

"Thanks George," Harry laughed.

George clapped Harry on the shoulder and leaned in to whisper in his ear, "I put some surprises in your pack…just don't set them off in the dormitories! Give 'em Hell at the Auror Academy!" George ruffled his mop of black hair and stepped aside.

Harry rolled his eyes and smiled as he made his way from George to the other Weasleys waiting to see him off. He shook hands with Bill, Charlie, and Percy while Fleur hugged him and kissed him on each cheek. Angelina gave him a friendly hug and an affectionate punch in the arm, and Audrey…who had known Harry for the least amount of time of all those present…gave him an uncomfortable sort of wave before moving to stand with Percy. Even the Grangers, who really only knew Harry as their daughter's friend, bid him farewell with a handshake and a hug.

Almost as one, the assembled loved-ones moved towards the exit to Platform 9¾ leaving Harry alone with Ron, wanting to give the two of them some measure of privacy for their own good-bye. Harry moved over to where his best mate stood, off to the side, shuffling his feet.

"It's almost time, Ron," Harry said, hitching his pack up onto his shoulder and grabbing Cyril's cage. He pulled an old, rusty doorknob out of his robe pocket, "The Portkey's set to go off in about a minute, but before I go, there's something I wanted to say."

"What's that, mate?" Ron asked, clapping him on the shoulder and giving Harry a sad little smile.

"I wanted to say 'thanks'," Harry said, looking Ron directly in the eye, his voice cracking slightly, "You've always treated me like Harry Potter instead of _The Boy-Who-Lived_; you'll never know how important that was to me. You were my first real friend, you stood by my side no matter the odds, you let me be a part of your family, and you even let me have your sister…"

"Oy! Watch it Potter!" Ron threatened, jokingly. Both young men smiled and laughed.

"I'm going to miss you, Ron," Harry said getting serious once again.

"Me too, Harry," Ron nodded and moved towards his best mate; they each stepped forward into an awkward hug, the two of them slapping each other on the back to make the embrace a manly one, "Take care and be sure to write, yeah?"

Harry nodded, and Ron stepped back, "See ya', Ron."

"Bye Harry."

The Boy-Who-Lived gave the best friend he'd ever had one last smile as the doorknob in his hand began to glow. In a flash, Harry Potter was gone, leaving Ron alone on the train platform. For the first time in seven years, the Golden Trio had gone their separate ways.

Ron made his way towards the exit of Platform 9¾ and found himself pounced upon by his brother, George.

"Don't worry, Ronniekins," George said, wrapping his arm around his little brother's shoulders as they made their way to rejoin their family, "You've always got me!"

"Merlin help me," Ron laughed, putting his arm around George and shaking his head as they passed through the exit, leaving Platform 9¾ and the past behind, and moved off towards the future.

**-- The End --**

* * *

**AUTHOR'S END NOTES: ** Well, boys and girls, there you have it. Was the ending as good for you as it was for me? I hope so...after all, I wanted to go out with a bang (or, at the very least a laugh).

A lot of time, effort, and emotion was poured into this story. A lot of sleepless nights, a lot of non-productive days, and more than a few stress-filled weekends. It was all worth it, though, judging by the positive response I received from nearly every single one of the 550+ reviews this story received. You people kept me going when all I wanted to do was toss my laptop out the window and curl up in the dark and hide.

Thank you...every single solitary one of you...for reading my story and giving me the feedback I so richly desired when writing and posting this story. All of you are invited to keep an eye on my profile page so you'll know when new stories come out (OR you could just go ahead and add me to your Author Alerts). I've got a bunch of one-shots in the works, and my next multi-chapter story called **_MIRROR, MIRROR_** will be debuting in a few weeks...so keep your eyes peeled.

This has been a really great experience for me, and you all took part in making it great. I really appreciate all of you for taking the time out of your day to read my mad ramblings. I hate to say good-bye since it sounds so final, so let me leave you with this...

So long, and thanks for all the fish!

-- 'Hawk --


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